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Not until it approached very close did he duck his head 

AND LOOK UP 


'Twilight <tAnimal Series 


BUMPER 

THE WHITE RABBIT 


By 

GEORGE ETHELBERT WALSH 

Author of ^^Bumper the White Rabbit^* *^Bumper the White Rabbit in the 
WoodSy* ^^Bumper the White Rabbit and His FoeSy* ^^Bumper the 
White Rabbit and His Friends y* **Bobby Gray Squirrel f* 

**Bobby Gray Squirrel* s AdoentureSy* Etc, 


Colored Illustrations by 

EDWIN JOHN PRITTIE 

t 


THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY 

CHICAGO PHILADELPHIA TORONTO 


TWILIGHT ANIMAL SERIES 
FOR BOYS AND GIRLS 

FROM 4 TO 10 YEARS OF AGE 


By 


GEORGE ETHELBERT WALSH 


PZlio 

• t) 

Tur 


r.o, 


LIST OF TITLES 

1 BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT 

2 BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT IN THE WOODS 

3 BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT AND HIS FOES 

4 BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT AND HIS FRIENDS 

5 BOBBY GRAY SQUIRREL 

6 BOBBY GRAY SQUIRREL’S ADVENTURES 

7 BUSTER THE BIG BROWN BEAR 

8 BUSTER THE BIG BROWN BEAR’S ADVENTURES 

9 WHITE TAIL THE DEER 

10 WHITE TAIL THE DEER’S ADVENTURES 

11 WASHER, THE RACCOON 

(Other titles in preparation) 


Issued in uniform style with this volume 
PRICE 65 CENTS EACH, Postpaid 

EACH VOLUME CONTAINS COLORED ILLUSTRATIONS 


Copyright 1922 by 

THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY 
Copyright MCMXVII by George E. Walsh 


SEP 19 '23 


©ClA7119e5 


INTRODUCTION TO THE 
TWILIGHT ANIMAL STORIES 

By the Author 

All little boys and girls who love animals 
should become acquainted with Bumper the 
white rabbit, with Bobby Gray Squirrel, 
with Buster the bear, and with White Tail 
the deer, for they are all a jolly lot, brave and 
fearless in danger, and so lovable that you 
won’t lay down any one of the books without 
saying wistfully, ‘T almost wish I had them 
really and truly as friends and not just story- 
book acquaintances.” That, of course, is a 
splendid^^wish; but none of us could afford to 
have a big menagerie of wild animals, and 
that’s just what you would have to do if you 
went outside of the books. Bumper had many 
friends, such as Mr. Blind Rabbit, Fuzzy Wuzz 
and Goggle Eyes, his country cousins; and 
Bobby Gray Squirrel had his near cousins. 
Stripe the chipmunk and Webb the flying 
squirrel; while Buster and White Tail were 
favored with an endless number of friends and 
relatives. If we turned them all loose from the 
books, and put them in a ten-acre lot — but 


INTRODUCTION 


no, ten acres wouldn’t be big enough to 
accommodate them, perhaps not a hundred 
acres. 

So we will leave them just where they are 
— in the books — and read about them, and 
let our imaginations take us to them where we 
can see them playing, skipping, singing, and 
sometimes fighting, and if we read very care- 
fully, and think as we go along, we may come 
to know them even better than if we went out 
hunting for them. 

Another thing we should remember. By 
leaving them in the books, hundreds and 
thousands of other boys and girls can enjoy 
them, too, sharing with us the pleasures of 
the imagination, which after all is one of the 
greatest things in the world. In gathering 
them together in a real menagerie, v/e would be 
selfish both to Bumper, Bobby, Buster, White 
Tail and their friends as well as to thousands 
of other little readers who could not share 
them with us. So these books of Twilight 
Animal Stories are dedicated to all little boys 
and girls who love wild animals. All others 
are forbidden to read them! They wouldn’t 
understand them if they did. 

So come out into the woods with me, and 
let us listen and watch, and I promise you it 
will be worth while. 


CONTENTS 


STOKY PAGE 

I. Where Bumper Came From 9 

II. Why Bumper Was Left at Home. . 16 

III. Bumper is Sold 23 

IV. What Happened in the Dreadful 

House 30 

V. Bumper and the Red-Headed Girl 37 

VI. Bumper and Carlo 44 

VII. Bumper Meets the Sewer Rat 51 

VIII. Bumper Runs into a Nest of Bats. . .58 

IX. Bumper Escapes on a Raft 65 

X. Bumper Sees his First Black Crow. 72 

XI. Bumper Meets a Fox 79 

XII. Bumper Admired by the Birds .... 86 

XIII. Bumper Needs a Doctor 93 

XIV. Bumper Meets Mr. Bear 100 

XV. Bumper Finds his Country Cousins 107 

XVI. Bumper Becomes the White King 

of the Rabbits 115 


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Bumper the White Rabbit 


STORY I 

WHERE BUMPER CAME FROM 

There was once an old woman who had so 
many rabbits that she hardly knew what to do. 
They ate her out of house and home, and kept 
the cupboard so bare she often had to go to bed 
hungry. But none of the rabbits suffered this 
way. They all had their supper, and their break- 
fast, too, even if there wasn’t a crust left in the 
old woman’s cupboard. 

There were big rabbits and little rabbits; lean 
ones and fat ones ; comical little youngsters who 
played pranks upon their elders, and staid, se- 
rious old ones who never laughed or smiled the 
livelong day ; boy rabbits and girl rabbits, 
mother rabbits and father rabbits, and goodness 
knows how many aunts, uncles, nephews, nieces, 
cousins, second cousins and distant relatives-in- 
law! They all lived under one big roof in the 
9 


10 


.Where Bumper Came From 


backyard of the good old woman who kept them, 
and they had such jolly times together that it 
seemed a shame to separate them. 

But once every day the old woman chose sev- 
eral of her pets, and carried them away in a bas- 
ket to a certain street corner of the city where 
she offered them for sale. She was dreadfully 
poor, and often when she returned home at night, 
counting her money, she would murmur: “It’s 
a cabbage for them or a loaf of bread for myself. 
I can’t get both.” 

She didn’t always get the loaf of bread, but 
the rabbits always had their cabbage. They were 
all pink-eyed, white rabbits, and people were will- 
ing to pay good prices for them. But the whitest 
and pinkest-eyed of them all was Bumper, a tiny 
rabbit when he was born, and not very big when 
the old woman took him away on his first trip to 
the street corner. Bumper had never seen so 
many people before, and he was a little shy and 
frightened at first; but Jimsy and Wheedles, his 
brothers, laughed at his fears, and told him not 
to mind. 

After that he plucked up courage, and when a 
little girl suddenly ran out of the crowd and 
picked him up in her arms, he tried not to be 
afraid. “Oh, you sweet little thing!” the girl 
exclaimed, pinching his ears softly. “Where 


Where Bumper Came From 


11 


did you come from, and where did you get those 
pink eyes and those long, fluffy ears? ” 

Then the girl kissed Bumper and rubbed his 
nose against her soft, fresh young cheek; but 
when the old lady approached, all smiles, and 
said, “ Want him, dear? ” she put him down in the 
basket again. 

‘‘Want him? Of course, I want him!” she 
replied a little scornfully. “ But I can’t buy him 
to-day. I spent all my birthday money on 
candies and cakes. Take him now before I steal 
him and run away.” 

She was a pretty girl, with red hair, a dimple 
in her chin, and one big freckle on the end of her 
nose; but her eyes were blue, and they made 
Bumper think of the sky which he could see 
through a hole in the roof of his house. I suppose 
it was because he had pink eyes that he thought 
blue was so becoming to little girls. 

That night when he got home. Bumper was 
bursting with excitement. The day’s experience 
was enough to cause this, but the words of the 
little girl who had spent all of her birthday money 
for candies and cakes were fresh in his mind. The 
first thing he did when he got in his box was to 
pester his mother with so many questions that 
she had hard work answering them. 

“A little girl asked me where I came from. 


12 


Where Bumper Came From 


mother, and I couldn’t answer her. Where did 
I come from? ” 

“ Why, dear, from a snowball, of comse. 
How else could you be so white?” 

“ And have I pink eyes? ” That was the little 
girl’s second question. 

‘‘ What color did you think they were? ” asked 
Bumper’s mother, smiling. “Look at the eyes 
of your brothers and sisters.” 

Bumper looked in Jimsy’s and Wheedle’s 
eyes, and saw they were pink, but he was still 
doubtful. “ But mine,” he added, “ are you sure 
they’re pink ? They might be green or yellow — ” 

Mother rabbit laughed and hopped over to a 
basin of water which the good old woman kept 
filled for her pets. “Look in that,” she said, 
“ and then tell me what you see.” 

Trembling with excitement. Bumper plunged 
both front paws in the basin, and the water 
rippled in little waves so that he could see noth- 
ing. He was terribly disappointed at first, for 
the water was a little dirty, and he was afraid 
the black specks floating in it might be the re- 
flection of his eyes. Then the water cleared as 
the dirt settled at the bottom, and straight up 
from the depths there glowed two tiny pink spots. 
Bumper watched them in silence until his mother 
asked: “What do you see, dear?” 


Where Bumper Came From 


13 


“ Two pink stars ! ” he murmured. 

Mother rabbit, like all fond mothers, smiled 
and leaned over to kiss the wet nose of her little 
one. Jimsy and Wheedles and all the other rab- 
bits were anxious to see the two pink stars in the 
water, and they crowded around the basin to get 
a look. They held their breath in amazement, 
for wonder of wonders! instead of two, there 
were a dozen tiny pink stars! They twinkled 
and flashed, and when they bobbed their heads 
up the stars faded away or disappeared entirely. 

Mother rabbit, who was very fond of her little 
ones, smiled proudly, and said: 

‘‘All my children have pink eyes!” 

“ But don’t all rabbits have pink eyes ? ” asked 
Bumper, whose little brain was still bursting with 
questions. 

“No, dear, they do not — only those rabbits 
that come from snowballs have pink eyes.” 

“ Oh!” exclaimed one and all, and particularly 
Bumper, who had started all this probing into 
the family history. 

Then the last question of the little girl popped 
up into his head, and without waiting to catch 
his breath, or to give his mother time to think 
up a suitable answer, he blurted it out. 

“Where did I get these long, fluffy ears. 


14 . 


Where Bimiper Came From 


mother? The little girl said they were long and 
fluffy.” 

Just to make sure he had not been deceived, he 
pulled them right down between his two front 
paws, and looked at them. They were, indeed, 
long, silky and fluffy, and as white as snow. 

Mother rabbit shook her head slowly just as 
if she intended to scold, and then said in the soft- 
est, gentlest of voices: 

“I’m afraid that little girl has been putting 
vain ideas into your head, dear. You must be 
careful, and not let compliments about your eyes 
and ears spoil you. If you do people won’t like 
you.” 

Bumper promised not to be spoilt by listening 
to what little girls said, and then eagerly repeated 
his question. 

“Why, that is simple enough,” Mother rab- 
bit answered, having had time to think. “ When 
you were only a little snowball, we had to hang 
you up to dry, and that pulled your ears out.” 

That was an answer good enough for any rab- 
bit, and Bumper should have been satisfied, but 
he had a very inquisitive mind. 

“ But why didn’t I melt when I was hung up 
to dry?” he asked quickly. “Snowballs melt 
in the sun, don’t they? ” 

“ Yes,” gravely, “ so they do, dear, if you leave 


Where Bumper Came From 


15 


them in the sun too long. But it was mother’s 
business to see that you didn’t melt. It’s like 
baking bread or cake. If you leave the dough in 
the oven too long it burns up, and then it isn’t 
either bread or cake. It’s very hard to know just 
when it’s done, and it’s harder” — sighing aloud 
— “for mothers to know just when a snowball 
is turning into a white rabbit, and when it’s be- 
ginning to melt away into nothing. Now don’t 
ask me any more questions to-night. It’s bed 
time, and little rabbits with pink eyes should be 
fast asleep.” 

Which was true, but Bumper went to sleep 
dreaming of a million questions he would ask his 
mother in the morning. 


STORY II 


WHY BUMPER WAS LEFT AT HOME 

Bi^mper woke up the next morning so hungry 
that he couldn’t think of any of the million ques- 
tions to ask imtil he’d finished eating his break- 
fast. Besides a cabbage, there were some carrots 
and beet tops the old woman had fished out of a 
grocer’s backyard, and Bumper had to jump 
lively to get his share. Jimsy and Wheedles were 
already on their second carrot when he opened his 
eyes. 

“ You’ll never catch up with me! ” said Jimsy, 
greedily. “ I’m one carrot ahead of you.” 

“ nd I’m one and a half,” mumbled Wheedles, 
with his mouth full. 

“ I don’t care. Sleep is better for you than so 
much eating. I had a longer nap, and such beau- 
tiful dreams! Oh, I do hope some of them will 
come tme.” 

“ Tell us about them,” said Jimsy, forgetting 
to eat. “ I never have dreams.” 

“ Neither do I,” complained Wheedles. ‘‘You 
must tell us about your dreams.” 

16 


Why Bumper was Left at Home 17 


As soon as I finish my breakfast I will,” re- 
plied Bumper. “Yes, they were beautiful 
dreams! I thought I was in a big place filled 
with crisp lettuce and golden carrots, and a girl 
with red hair picked me up in her arms and car- 
ried me away.” 

Bumper stopped talking while his brothers 
looked in amazement at him. They had heard 
the day before his story of the red-haired giri 
who wanted o buy him, and they were interested. 
But while they stopped and waited for him to 
proceed. Bumper chewed away at his carrot until 
it was all gone. Then, picking up a second one, 
he said; “Now I’m up with you. I’m on my 
second carrot. To-morrow morning I’ll tell you 
the rest of the dream.” 

Jimsy and Wheedles were greatly surprised 
and angered at the trick Bumper had played 
upon them, and they immediately began eating 
their carrots again as fast as they could. 

They were in the midst of their breakfast when 
the old woman came in the backyard with her 
basket. All the rabbits set up a commotion then, 
for they knew she would choose some of them 
to take away and sell. There were two reasons 
why they all wanted to be chosen. 

One was they liked the change from their nar- 
row quarters to the street corner and the sights 


18 Why Bumper was Left at Home 


of the city. Another was they all hoped some 
day to be sold and taken away to a big house 
where they would be petted and fed until their 
little stomachs would nearly burst open. They 
were a little crowded in their home, and new 
baby rabbits were coming all the time so that if 
some of them weren’t sold they’d soon be walking 
all over each other. 

“Now, which ones shall I take to-day?” the ' 
old woman mumbled, smiling upon all of them. 

They all bobbed their heads and blinked their 
pink eyes, and Jimsy jumped over Bumper’s 
back and hopped right into the woman’s hands. 

“Well, Jimsy,” she said, ‘‘you seem very anx- 
ious to go, so I’ll take you for one.” 

Wheedles tried the same trick, but it didn’t 
work the second time. “No, Wheedles, you’ve 
got a cold,” she said, pushing him back. “ People 
don’t want to buy rabbits that have colds.” 

Bumper had no cold, and he decided to try 
his luck, but Topsy, a big rabbit, got in his way, 
and nearly bowled him over. Bumper squealed, 
and the old woman pushed Topsy away. 

“ No, you can’t go for being so rough,” she 
scolded. “ Poor little Bumper, did Topsy hurt 
you?” 

Bumper was sure then that she intended to 
take him along with Jimsy; but no! she put 


Why Bumper was Left at Home 19 


him down gently, and selected three others. 
Bumper’s disappointment was so great that a 
tear came into one of his pink eyes. 

It was mother who consoled him when the old 
woman had filled her basket and left the yard. 
“ Never mind, dear, your time will come. You’re 
younger than Jimsy.” 

“But why should I always be left at home?” 
complained Bumper. 

“ It’s the place for little rabbits,” was the reply. 
“ There’s no place so safe and comfortable.” 

“But you always told us some day we’d find 
a better home, with plenty to eat, and nothing to 
do,” whimpered Bumper, who felt quite cross. 
“ Wliy did you tell us that?” 

Mother rabbit looked quite perplexed for a 
moment. “ I think, dear,” she said finally, “ you 
ask more questions than any child I ever had.” 

Bumper’s eyes shone with amusement. “I 
have a million more of them to ask, mother, I 
dreamt of them last night.” 

“Then,” laughing at him, “find the answei’s 
to them in your dreams to-night.” 

The next day Bumper had his turn, and then 
again the following day, but each time he re- 
turned home unsold. Jimsy was bought by a 
little boy, and triumphantly carried off, and 
Wheedles was captured by a girl. Even Topsy, 


20 Why Bumper was Left at Home 


who was big and clumsy, found a purchaser, and 
disappeared from the backyard. On returning 
home the fourth time. Bumper was in a disap- 
pointed mood, and felt very unhappy. 

“ Why is it, mother,” he asked, “ that no one 
buys me? Am I so homely that no one wants 
me?” 

“ What a question to ask, dear J ” smiled mother 
rabbit. Then, patting him on the head, she 
added: “Bend down your ears, and I’ll whisper 
a secret in them.” 

Bumper squatted down, and pulled both long 
-^ars toward his mother so he wouldn’t miss a 
tvord. 

“ It isn’t good for little rabbits to hear what 
I’m going to tell you,” she whispered. “ It often 
makes them proud and vain; but I suppose you 
will know it some day.” 

Mother rabbit sighed, as if the secret was hard 
to tell, and not very pleasant to hear. Mothers 
are very queer sometimes, even rabbit mothers. 

“It’s because you’re so beautiful, dear!” she 
whispered finally. “You’re whiter than any of 
my children, and you have the softest fur, and 
the pinkest eyes. Now do you understand?” 

No, Bumper didn’t understand a bit. He was 
more perplexed than ever. If he was handsomer 
than other white rabbits, then why didn’t people 


Why Bumper was Left at Home 21 


buy him first? Why did they look at him, and 
return him to the basket, and say: 

“ I guess I'll take the other one? ” 

“ It must be people don’t know how pretty I 
am,” he said finally. “ What can I do to make 
them see?” 

Mother rabbit laughed until her fat sides 
wobbled like a fur muff filled with playful kit- 
tens. “Dear, dear,” she exclaimed, with tears 
in her eyes. “ I thought you would understand. 
It’s because the people don’t have the money to 
give.” 

“Why don’t they?” he asked, a little peeved. 
“Don’t they have all the money they want?” 

“No, dear, not all of them. Some are nearl}' 
as poor as we are, and they have to be careful of 
the pennies. That’s why they don’t buy you. 
The old woman asks too much for you.” 

This didn’t improve Bumper’s temper any ; but 
right away he thought of the little girl with the 
red hair. “Do you think she has plenty of 
money?” he asked. “She was beautifully 
dressed, and had a rose in her hair.” 

“I don’t know. Some people put all their 
money on their backs, and starve their stomachs. 
It may be this girl was that kind.” 

Bumper was sure she was wrong, for the red- 
haired girl didn’t look starved; but she didn’t 


22 Why Bumper was Left at Home 


have any of her birthday money left, and she con- 
fessed she’d spent it all for cakes and candies. 
Bumper wondered if she’d had anything to eat 
since, or if she was saving up her money to buy 
hiiTL 

That night he had another dream in which the 
red-haired girl appeared ; but in the morning the 
old woman took him out of the box, and said: 

It’s your turn. Bumper. I must sell you to** 
day. I need the money badly.” 


STORY III 


BUMPER IS SOLD 

Bumper was taken to the street comer with 
Fluffy, Dimples and Pickles. It was a cloudy 
day, and the old woman limped as she walked 
along with her basket on her arm. Damp weather 
always brought out her rheumatism, and some- 
times made her very cross. 

Dimples and Fluffy began playing they were 
on a ship in a storm, and when a drop of rain hit 
Pickles on the nose he squealed with delight, and 
joined them in the game. They scampered 
around so lively inside that the old woman 
stopped and opened the cover of the basket. 

“Stop that!” she said quite angrily, “or I’ll 
dump you all in the gutter!” 

The threat was enough to send each to a comer 
of the basket, where they eyed each other and 
tried to think up some less boisterous game. It 
was beginning to rain steadily outside, and the 
water trickled through the top of the basket. 
Every time a drop hit one, he squealed, but no 
one dared to jump and run around. 

23 


24 


Bumper is Sold 


Now rabbits don’t sell very well on rainy days, 
especially white rabbits. Their fur gets all wet 
and roughened up, and they look more like half- 
drowned rats than pretty, fluffy bunnies. Fluffy 
M'^as taken out of the basket first, but nobody took 
any notice of her, and when she came back she 
was all wet and shivery. 

“B-r-r-r, it’s awfully wet outside,” she said, 
shaking with the cold. “ I’m glad nobody bought 
me, for I’d rather be in here safe and warm than 
in somebody’s arms.” 

Pickles’s turn came next. He had an ingTow- 
ing toe nail, which sometimes made him grouchy 
and sour, so he was dubbed Pickles. He looked 
and acted like his name now. He squealed when 
the old woman picked him up in her hand, and 
when a splash of rain landed on the back of his 
neck he kicked both hind legs and wriggled his 
body free and fell plump back into the basket. 

The old woman was very angry. “You, 
Pickles,” she growled, “ you’ll go to bed to-night 
without any supper.” 

Somebody passed just then, a lady with an 
umbrella over her head, and the woman with rab- 
bits to sell turned to her in her most beguiling 
way. “Rabbits, lady! Nice, pretty rabbits for 
sale!” 

The lady stopped long enough to let her um- 


Bumper is Sold 


25 


brella drip all over the basket, and then she 
asked: “Are they white rabbits? I don’t want 
any other kind.” 

“Yes, ma’m, pure white bunnies, with pink 
eyes, and long, fluffy ears — the dearest and cutest 
little things you ever saw. Let me show you.” 

With that she made a grab in the basket. It 
was a blind-man’s bluff grab, for she couldn’t see 
one of the rabbits huddling in the corners. 
Bumper was the nearest, and her hand closed 
over him. 

“ That’s the prettiest one I have, ma’m,” she 
said. “ He’s my pet, an’ I hate to sell him, but I 
need the money an’ you can have him.” 

It was raining pitchforks outside, or something 
like that, and, for a moment. Bumper couldn’t 
see anything but the big drops of water splash- 
ing in his eyes. Then the lady held the umbrella 
over his head, and he looked up into her face. 
She was a sweet, womanly lady, but not exactly 
the kind of mistress Bumper had pictured belong- 
ing to. 

“ He is a dear little thing,” the lady said, tak- 
ing him in her arms and rubbing his back. “ And 
so friendly I Why, he’s trying to cuddle up under 
my arm.” 

The fact was. Bumper was trying to get in her 
muff away from the dripping umbrella. He 


26 


Bumper is Sold 


made a dive for the nearest open end, and 
squeezed all but his tail through. 

“How cute of him! I believe I must take 
him. How much is he?” 

Now Bumper’s heart nearly stopped beating 
when he heard the lady ask this question, for 
had not his mother told him that he cost too much 
money for most people to buy? Did this lady 
have plenty of money, or did she put it all on 
her back and starve her stomach? She was beau- 
tifully dressed, and her cheeks were not very 
plump and fat — not a bit like those of the red- 
headed girl with a freckle on the end of her nose. 

“Two dollars, ma’m, an’ he’s cheap at that! 
You don’t find rabbits like him once in a year.” 

Bumper’s hopes took a sudden drop. Two 
dollars! Why, Jimsy had been sold for one dol- 
lar, and Wheedles for seventy-five cents, while 
Topsy, who was old and fat, brought only fifty 
cents. My, two dollars was an awful lot of 
money! 

“ Two dollars ! ” repeated the lady, fumbling 
in her dress with one hand. Then, to Bumper’s 
surprise and delight, she added: “ I think I’ll take 
him. I want him for my nephew. Toby’s hard 
to suit, but I think he’ll be pleased with a rabbit. 
What did you say you called him? ” 

“Bumper, ma’m!” 


Bumper is Sold 


27 


"" That’s a queer name, but I like it.” 

“It was because he was always bumping his 
nose when he was a tiny mite,” the old woman 
explained, taking the two dollars from the lady. 
“His mother named him first, and then his 
brothers and sisters took it up, and, of course, I 
had to follow ’em. Rabbits don’t like to be 
called by two different names, and if I was you, 
ma’m, I’d keep on calling him Bumper. He 
wouldn’t know any other name.” 

“ I will always call him Bumper, but ” — sigh- 
ing — “ I’m afraid Toby will want to nickname 
him. He makes up the fimniest names for all 
his pets.” 

“Tell him then Bumper will run away and 
never come back. Rabbits are more knowing 
than you think, ma’m.” 

“I always thought they were very cute and 
gentle, but very stupid,” replied the lady. “ But 
maybe I was wrong. Bumper doesn’t look 
stupid.” 

“Lordy, ma’m! he ain’t no more stupid than 
that Toby you speak of, whoever he may be.” 

“Well, Toby isn’t stupid, whatever else you 
may say of him,” smiled the lady. “ He’s bright 
enough, but he’s sometimes very thoughtless, and 
I fear a little cruel.” 

“ Cruel, ma’m ! ” And the old woman who sold 


28 


Bumper is Sold 


rabbits for a living stiffened her bent form, and 
frowned. She stretched forth a hand as if to 
reclaim her Bumper, but the lady moved away 
with her purchase under her arm. 

“ Oh, I’ll see that he isn’t cruel to Bumper,” 
she said. 

While listening to all this conversation, 
Bumper experienced strange and unusual emo- 
tions. He had learned more about white rabbits 
in a few moments than his mother had ever taught 
him in all the days of his youth. They were 
considered stupid, were they? — but cute and 
gentle. Huh! He wasn’t stupid! No, indeed! 
If the lady thought so he’d show her what a mis- 
take she’d made. 

Just to prove it. Bumper began to gnaw at 
the lining of the muff, and pretty socm got his 
whole body under it, and then he began to kick 
and wriggle to get out. He felt he was being 
smothered alive, and he squealed aloud. Tlie lady 
finally rescued him, but not until she had tom 
away half the lining from her muff. 

“Oh, you stupid little Bumper!” she said, re- 
provingly. “ You mustn’t do such things!” 

Bumper felt so crestfallen at this rebuke that 
he remained perfectly quiet during the rest of 
the walk. He snuggled up into the crook of her 


Bumper is Sold 


29 


arm, and peeped out once only when they reached 
a big house and began ascending the steps. 

So this was to be his future home! What a 
big place it was ! Why, hundreds and hundreds 
of white rabbits could live in that house and never 
lack for elbow room. 

Just then, when Bumper began to feel a little 
proud about his future home, a great noise and 
clatter behind the door startled him, and it opened 
so suddenly that he nearly popped out of the 
lady’s arms. And what happened to him behind 
that door of the big house might fill chapters 
and chapters, but it will all be told in the next 
story. 


STORY IV 


WHAT HAPPENED IN THE DREADFUL HOUSE 

When the door of the house flew open with 
a bang, the lady holding Bumper put one hand 
to her heart, and exclaimed : 

“Oh, dear, what has happened now!” 

Bumper couldn’t see any one in the dark, but 
evidently the lady could, for a cool, quiet voice 
spoke to her. 

“Toby threw his playthings down the stairs, 
and he’s riding the banisters with a tin pan for 
a hat. I suppose you heard the clatter of the 
pan as it fell off.” 

“ It sounded to me as if the house was falling 
down, Mary! I do wish Toby would behave.” 

The one addressed as Mary laughed. She 
seemed like a pleasant, wholesome young woman, 
with pink cheeks and smiling gray eyes. “I’ve 
told him to behave a dozen times, but he won’t 
mind. He’s been cutting up all the morning. 
But what have you there in your arms. Aunt 
Helen?” 

“ Guess, Mary. It’s for Toby’s birthday.” 

“ Some kind of a toy, I suppose — or maybe a 
book.” 


30 


What Happened in the Dreadful House 31 


“A book for Toby! What an idea! He’d 
throw it in the fire unless he liked the pictures. 
No, it’s something prettier and better than a 
book.” 

She opened her arms, and held Bumper for- 
ward so Mary could see him, long, white ears and 
blinking eyes and all. 

“ Ohl A dear little rabbit! ” 

Before Bumper could protest or stop his heart 
from beating like a trip-hammer, Mary seized 
him in both hands, and began gently stroking 
his head, 

“ What a sweet little thing!” she murmured, 
“ And so tame and friendly!” 

Bumper was rubbing his wet nose against her 
velvety hands and thinking how soft and pleasant 
they were to the touch. 

Yes, he’s so tame he never once tried to jump 
out of my hands,” replied Aunt Helen. “I’m 
almost afraid to let Toby have him now that 
I’ve brought him home. Do you think he’ll be 
rough with him? ” 

Mary’s face turned very grave and serious. 
“He’s pretty young to have a rabbit. Aunt 
Helen. If he should drop him — or — or — ^Well, 
we must teach him to be very careful.” 

“ Yes, I will speak to him myself.” 

You can imagine the state of Bumper’s feel- 


32 What Happened in the Dreadful HcNjae 


ings by this time. Toby was undoubtedly a cruel 
boy — ^Aunt Helen had said as much, and Mary 
had confirmed it — and they were both afraid he 
was too young to own a pet rabbit. What if he 
should drop him to the hard floor! Bumper 
peeked over Mary’s hands and looked below. 
The floor seemed a long distance away. If he 
should fall it would very likely break a leg or his 
neck. Oh, why had he been bought for a cruel 
boy’s birthday present. 

Bumper wanted to run and hide. If it hadn’t 
been for the fear of falling to the hard floor, 
he would have jumped out of Mary’s hands and 
scampered away. But he had no chance to do 
this. There was another loud racketty-rack- 
clumpity-bang! First a big tin dish pan rolled 
all the way down the stairs into the hall; tlien a 
set of building-blocks, a wooden hobby horse, a 
lot of animals from a Noah’s ark, tin soldiers, a 
drum, and a train of cars. Toby came last, slid- 
ing down the banisters, and shouting in glee as 
he landed at the bottom. 

“It was a landslide. Auntie!” he shouted. 
“ We all slid down the mountain together.’’ 

“ Toby, how many times have I told you not 
to do that I ” reproved Mary, while Aunt Helen 
turned pale and stood stock still. 

Toby paid no attention to the rebuke. He 


.Wliat Happened in the Dreadful House 33 


was a small, freckle-faced boy. In one hand he 
held a whip, and in the other the broken head 
of a wooden horse. He picked himself up, and 
began slashing his toys with the whip. Bumper 
gave him one terrified glance, and made a des- 
perate dive for Mary’s open waist. But Toby 
had sharp, bright eyes. 

“What you got, Mary?” he shouted, running 
toward her, whip in hand. “ Oh, a rabbit! Yes, 
it is! You needn’t hide him! I see him! It’s a 
rabbit! Let me have him!” 

“Be careful, Toby, you’ll tear my dress.” 

“ Let me have him ! He’s mine.” 

“ No, no, Toby, don’t touch him. Wait! I’ll 
show him to you! ” 

But Toby was much too spry for Mary or Aunt 
Helen. He darted around back of them, and 
caught Bumper by the tail — and you know a 
rabbit’s tail is the smallest part of him — and 
began pulling it. Bumper let out a squeal, and 
pulled the other way with all his might. 

“I got him!” shrieked Toby gleefully. “I 
got him by the tail.” 

“Toby! Toby!” cried Mary, catching his 
hand. “ Let go of him this instant.” 

“ I won’t! I won’t! He’s mine! ” 

Between Toby pulling at one end, and Mary 
holding the other. Bumper felt as if he would 


34 What Happened in the Dreadful House 


part somewhere in the middle. He kicked with 
his hind legs, and scratched Toby’s hands, but 
the boy would not release his hold. He gave a 
sharp jerk, and Bumper let o. t a squeal. 

“ You cruel, wicked boy! ” exclaimed Mary, as 
Toby pulled the rabbit from her arms, and swung 
him around by his hind legs. ‘‘ Let me have him 
this minute. You’ll kill him! ” 

“No, I won’t! He’s mine! Isn’t he, Aunt 
Helen? You brought him to me, didn’t you? 
There now, Marj^ she nodded her head! I’m 
going to keep him.” 

“ But, dear, you must be very gentle with him,” 
said Aunt Helen. “You’ll hurt him carrying 
him that way.” 

“ That’s the way to carry rabbits, by their hind 
legs,” replied Toby. “ I saw them in the market 
the other day — a whole bunch of them — Changing 
by their hind legs.” 

“But they were dead rabbits, Toby, and not 
hve, white ones. Now let me show you how to 
hold him.” 

But Toby was more interested in the experi- 
ment of making Bumper squeal than in listen- 
ing to his aunt’s instructions. It was better than 
the squeaking camel he had or the girl’s doll that 
said mamma every time you squeezed it. All he 
had to do was to squeeze the legs or swing the 


What Happened in the Dreadful House 35 


I’abbit around to make him squeal. Each time 
he laughed and shouted with joy. 

Mary could stand this cruel torture no longer. 
She made a dive for Bumper, and caught him 
by the fore paws. In the struggle that followed 
Bumper was likely to be pulled apart. What 
might have happened no one could tell if the door 
had not suddenly opened, and a young girl, with 
red hair and freckles on her nose, entered. She 
was humming some tune to herself or to the doll 
she carried in her hands; but she stopped sing- 
ing, and stared at Toby and Mary pulling at the 
white rabbit. 

Then she dropped her doll, and sprang for- 
ward to Bumper's rescue. “ Oh, that’s my rab- 
bit, cousin Mary!” she cried. “It’s the one I 
wanted to buy from the old woman, but I didn’t 
have the money. Let go of him, Toby ! You’re 
hurting him!” 

“I won’t! He’s mine!” came the reply. 
“You let go of him!” 

“He’s not! He’s mine!” 

“ He ain’t ! He’s mine ! ” 

“Stop that!” cried the girl, when Toby 
squeezed the legs so hard Bumper whimpered 
wdth pain. 

“ I won’t! I’ll squeeze him all I want to.” 

To make good his word he gave the rabbit a 


36 What Happened in the Dreadful House 


harder squeeze. Then something happened that 
surprised every one. The girl raised a hand, 
and boxed Toby’s ears so hard that it made him 
howl. 

‘‘Now, take that, and see how it feels to be 
hurt!” 

Toby clapped both hands to his ears, and in a 
flash the red-headed girl seized Bumper in her 
arms and ran pell-mell from the room. Toby 
started after her, but when the door slammed in 
his face he flopped down on the floor to howl 
and kick just like a baby who had eaten pickles 
instead of good milk for breakfast. 


STORY V 


BUMPER AND THE RED-HEADED GHtL 

The red-headed girl, with the freckles on her 
nose, and a dimple in her chin, didn’t stop until 
she was on the top floor of the big house where 
Toby’s howls couldn’t be heard. She opened the 
door of a dark room, and went in, slamming and 
locking the door after her. 

“There, now I guess he can’t find us!” she 
exclaimed. 

Then to Bumper, she turned and began croon- 
ing: “You poor little rabbit! Did Toby hurt 
you? Don’t be frightened now. I won’t let him 
have you again. I’ll buy you if it takes all my 
Christmas money. You’re mine now!” 

You can never imagine how these words 
soothed Bumper’s ruffled feelings. It was like 
being rescued from a terrible giant who intended 
to dash out your brains and eat you for supper. 
Bumper’s heart began to beat slower and slower 
until pretty soon it wasn’t going any faster than 
the ticking of the clock outside in the hallway. 

They sat there in the dark room for a long 
time, the girl rubbing Bumper’s head and back 
37 


38 Bumper and the Red- Headed Girl 


and crooning gently to him. Then a noise out- 
side — ^the sound of approaching footsteps — 
alarmed the white rabbit again. 

“Edith!” a voice called. “Edith, are you up 
here? ” 

It was Mary, her cousin, calling, and the red- 
haired girl gently pushed open the door, and 
whispered. 

“I’m in here, cousin Mary. Where’s Toby?” 

“He’s looking for you. I think you’d better 
get out of the house before he finds you. Take 
Bumper with you, and we’ll buy him something 
else to keep him quiet.” 

“Then I can keep him? — call him really and 
truly mine?” 

“Yes, if you can get away with him. Toby 
isn’t old enough yet for pets.” 

“ He’s old enough,” sniffed Edith, “ but he’s 
been spoilt, and don’t know how to treat them. 
If he ever lays hands on my rabbit again, I’ll box 
his ears so hard he’ll never forget it. That’s what 
I’ll do!” 

Mary seemed to concur in this, for she smiled, 
and rubbed Bumper’s head before adding. 
“ He’d raise an awful howl, I suppose, if he knew 
you were here. You’d better go home now. You 
can get through the backyard without Toby see- 
ing you.” 


Bumper and the Red-Headed Girl 39 


‘"'Let him see me if he likes,” retorted Edith, 
shaking her red curls and tilting her freckled 
nose upward. “ I won’t let him have the rabbit. 
Aunt Helen ought to spank him. That’s what 
he deserves.” 

Mary walked ahead down the stairs to see if 
Toby was around, and then when they reached 
the kitchen Edith climbed through an open win- 
dow into the backyard. There was a thick hedge 
around the yard, and back of that another yard 
which smelt so sweet with flowers and green lawn 
that Bumper raised his head and sniffed. 

My, what a whiff that was ! There was a vege- 
table garden hidden back of the rose bushes, filled 
with crisp lettuce, golden carrots, emerald-green 
cabbages, blood-red beets, blanching celery, peas, 
beans, corn, potatoes, and green grass every- 
where. It was a whiff from Rabbit Arcady, and 
Bumper forgot all the dangers he had been 
through. 

No, no, you mustn’t jump out of my arms! ” 
warned Edith when he struggled to get down and 
roll around in. the green grass. “ Toby might be 
looking.” 

There was an opening in the thick hedge, and 
through this the red-haired girl crawled into the 
second garden. If anything, this was a more 
wonderful garden than the first. The odors 


40 Bumper and the Red- Headed Giri 


were intoxicating. There were flowers and birds 
and trees as well as succulent vegetables. A 
most wonderful elm tree spread out like an um- 
brella and shaded the whole lawn. Beneath this 
the girl stopped a moment, and let Bumper nibble 
at the green grass. 

For a city rabbit who had never seen green 
grass growing, and had only tasted of vegetables 
several days or a week old, this visit to the garden 
was like a foretaste of what all rabbits must con- 
sider heaven. Nothing Bumper had ever eaten 
tasted quite so good as that grass, and when the 
girl picked a fresh, crisp carrot from the garden 
he couldn’t believe it was anything but a magic 
carrot. It was so sweet and juicy that it made 
his mouth water. 

“Now you must come in the house,” Edith 
said after he had eaten so much that he was in 
danger of exploding like an over ripe tomato. 
“ I’m going to keep you right in my bedroom to- 
night. Then daddy will make a house for you in 
the morning.” 

Bumper spent the night in a box lined with 
fresh, green grass at the foot of the little girl’s 
bed, but not until after he had met another per- 
son whom he feared and disliked almost as much 
as the bad boy called Toby. She was a cross old 
nurse, who looked after Edith, and she didn’t like 



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Bumper and the Red- Headed Girl 41 


rabbits — ^not live ones. She admired Bumper’s 
soft, white hair, and remarked : 

“ Wouldn’t it make a handsome fur neck scarf? 
I wonder how much it would cost.” 

Edith snatched the rabbit from her hands. 
“ You wicked old thing! ” she exclaimed. “ I be- 
lieve you’d kill Bumper just for his fur.” 

“ What a funny little girl you are,” the nurse 
laughed. “ What are rabbits for if you can’t use 
their skins for furs.” 

With that Edith clapped Bumper in the box, 
and sat on the lid. “ I’m going to sit there until 
you go,” she said. 

The nurse laughed, and when she finally left 
the room the red-haired girl jumped up and 
locked the door. Then she patted Bumper again 
before slipping in bed for the night. 

It was early morning before the rabbit heard 
another word from her. The moon peeking in 
through the window made Bumper feel quite at 
home, and with it came the sweet aroma of that 
garden, intoxicating smells of roses, green grass 
and succulent vegetables. 

“ Are you there, little Bumper? ” the girl called 
just as the sun rose. She was in her thin nightie, 
with her wonderful braids of red hair streaming 
down her back. Bumper thumped on the box 


4s2 Bumper and the Red-Headed Girl 


with both hind feet to express his delight at see- 
ing her again. 

“Now you’re coming to bed with me,” she 
added. And sure enough, she lifted the white 
rabbit from the box and carried him to her bed. 
It was soft and warm under the sheets, and 
Bumper began playing hide-and-seek with her 
toes, making her shout and giggle every time his 
whiskers rubbed against one. It must have been 
the noise they made that attracted the nurse, for 
she suddenly knocked on the door and tried to 
open it. 

Edith sprang out of bed, and put the rabbit in 
his box before she opened the door. “ Why was 
that door locked?” asked the nurse severely. 

“ Because,” replied Edith saucily, “ I didn’t 
want you snooping in here in the night to steal 
bunny.” 

“Well, of all things! If you ever do that 
again. I’ll tell your mother! Suppose the house 
took fire with you locked in here.” 

“ I’d know enough to unlock the door, wouldn’t 
I ? ” retorted the girl. 

The nurse went to the bed and threw back the 
sheets to air them. Then, in angry amazement, 
she exclaimed: “You’ve had that dirty beast in 
the bed! Now don’t tell me a story.” 


Bumper and the Red-Headed Girl 48 


‘‘Yes, Nursy, and we had a beautiful time 
I)laying hide-and-seek under the bedclothes.’* 
The nurse stared hard at Edith, and then shook 
her head. “You’re a naughty girl, and I’ll give 
the rabbit to Carlo. See if I don’t?” 

This didn’t frighten the girl a bit, and she 
laughed in the nurse’s face; but it gave Bumper 
such a shock that he missed three heart beats and 
one of his whiskers, for he knew Carlo was the 
dog he had heard barking all night long. 


STORY VI 


BUMPER AND CARLO 

The little white rabbit found a home already 
waiting for him in the prettiest corner of the 
garden, but before that the red-haired girl har- 
nessed him to a ribbon, and let him eat grass and 
vegetables to his heart’s content wherever he took 
a fancy to go. Edith lost her appetite apparently 
in watching her pet eat, for she wouldn’t go into 
breakfast even after the nurse had called her 
several times ; but finally, when her mother came 
out, and took her by the hand, she obeyed. 

“Can’t I take the rabbit in with me?” she 
asked. 

“No, dear, put him in the pen over there. 
He’ll be quite content alone.” 

So Bumper found himself alone in the garden, 
or rather in a pen shut off from the rest of the 
garden by stout chicken wire. There was a box 
in back of the pen, filled with soft grass and 
straw, and a tin pan filled with fresh water. 
There was such a variety of things to eat that 
he kept nibbling first a carrot, then a cabbage, 
44 


Bumper and Carlo 


45 


then a blade of grass, then some com, then a piece 
of bread, then some crackers, then a red beet, then 
a spear of gi’ass again, and so on through all the 
long list of good things. 

It was such a mixture that he was never sure 
just what he had in his mouth. It was just as if 
a boy or girl had crammed the mouth full of gum 
drops, chocolates, fudge, lollypops, taffy, pepper- 
mint, lemon and wintergreen drops, and a few 
pieces of fruit cake by way of change. How 
could he or she tell just what the teeth were 
munching on? 

Bumper tasted them all, and thought that each 
one was sweeter and better than the other; but 
when he got around to the end of his circle he had 
to begin all over again to see if they didn’t all 
taste better the second time. My, it was a feast 
that made his eyes open and his stomach swell 
like a toad’s trying to swallow a gnat. 

Edith came out so soon that Bumper knew right 
away that she hadn’t eaten much breakfast, and 
half of it was in her hands, and apparently the 
other half was on her face instead of being in her 
stomach where it should have been. 

Do you like bread and jam? ” she asked, pok- 
ing the bread she had been eating at Bumper. 

Like a weU-bred rabbit. Bumper stuck his nose 
up and sniffed at the dainty proffered him; but 


46 


Bumper and Carlo 


when he got some of the jam on his nose he 
hopped away and sneezed. It was gooseberry 
jam, and Bumper hated goosebendes, although 
he had never tasted of them before. 

“Oh, you funny bunnie! ” exclaimed the girl. 
“Why don’t you like jam?” 

Then she caught a reflection of her face 
smeared with jam in the pan of water, and she 
laughed happily. “I don’t wonder you don’t 
like it on your face. Bumper,” she said. “ It does 
look awful, doesn’t it? My, I must have nearty 
a quart on my face.” 

Then she began cleaning her lips and chin, us- 
ing Bumper’s pan of water for a wash basin. 
Bumper didn’t object to this, but he did hope 
she’d remember to change it, and give him clean 
water to drink. Even gooseberry- jam- water 
wasn’t to his liking. 

Early in the morning Edith was carried away 
by the nurse for her lessons, and then her music 
teacher appeared, and Bumper could hear her 
fine, small voice singing in accompaniment to 
the piano. After that she came into the garden 
again to play with him. 

But she was soon called away to lunch, and 
then she had to go walking with her mother, and 
it was nearly sundown when she returned. Her 
first thought was of the rabbit, and she came 


Bumper and Carlo 


4T 


rumimg pell-mell across the garden to greet him, 

'*Have you missed me, Bumper?” she asked, 
squatting down on the grass in her new white 
dress, “ IVe been awfully lonely without you, 
I do hate music lessons and visiting. I widi I 
could stay here all the time with you, and maybe 
eat grass and green things, and grow fat and 
white like you. I wonder how it feels to be a 
rabbit Yes, I believe next to being a little girl, 
I’d rather be a rabbit than anything else. Rab- 
bits don’t have to work or study or sing or do 
anything. Goodness! what an easy time you 
have of it.” 

Bumper thought so, too, and he began to swell 
up with pride. He was a very young rabbit and 
he was easily flattered. He wanted to tell her 
that he would rather be a white rabbit than a girl 
with red hair, when the nurse called Edith to 
dinner, and she had to leave him. 

It was a beautiful moonlight night, and 
Bumper wasn’t a bit sleepy. What rabbit could 
be in such a wonderful garden with the moon 
shining down upon it. Bumper danced around 
in his small pen, and sat upon his hind legs as 
if praying to the moon; but in reality he was try- 
ing to see how high the wire fence was, and won- 
dering if he could jump over it. He had tried all 
day to nibble through it, and dig under it, but 


48 


Bumper and Carlo 


the wire had only hurt his teeth without giving 
way a particle. If he was going to get out so he 
could run around the garden, he would have to 
do it by jumping clear over the wire fence. 

He tried it once, and fell short by several 
inches. He got a hard jolt in doing it, and 
mbbed his head where it hit the earth. But the 
next time he nearly reached the top. 

“ I can do it with a few more trials,’’ he said, 
happy at the thought of his freedom. “ I’ll sur- 
prise the little girl when she hunts for me in the 
morning.” 

He hopped back a few feet, and then took a 
flying leap, and landed plump on the top of the 
fence. The wire caught him in the middle of 
the stomach, and there he hung for a moment un- 
decided which way to fall. But he kicked with 
his hind feet, and that seemed to upset his bal- 
ance, for he plunged headfirst down, and landed 
on the other side in a wild somersault. 

“ Well, that wasn’t exactly graceful,” he said, 
“ but I’m here, and that’s where I wanted to be. 
Now I’ll explore the garden by moonlight.” 

First he ran to the vegetable garden, and nib- 
bled at whatever he could find ; but he was really 
so full he couldn’t eat much more. Then he 
frisked around on the lawn, playing with his 
tafl, and trying to jump as high up in the air as 


Bumper and Carlo 


49 


he could. It was great fun, and Bumper panted 
with joy. 

Then suddenly out of the dark shadows of the 
garden something large, fierce and frightfully 
noisy came bounding toward him. Bumper stood 
stock still until a deep baying sound told him 
that it was Carlo, the big dog, whose barking 
mider the bedroom window had disturbed his 
sleep the night before. 

With a bound Bumper leaped over a rose bush, 
and started for his pen in the corner, but Carlo 
took the bush in a powerful leap and made a 
grab for his neck with his jaws. Bumper 
squealed with fright, and turned to the left to 
find shelter under some prickly gooseberry 
bushes. Carlo yelped with pain when the thorns 
of the bushes stuck in his nose, and from that 
moment Bumper began to like gooseberries. 

But the chase was not over. Carlo drove him 
out of the bushes and chased him across the lawn 
into the garden. Bumper tried to hide behind 
a cabbage, but Carlo saw his white head, and 
pounced upon him. He missed by an inch, and 
Bumper, now terribly frightened, and panting 
for breath, made a dive for a big, dark hole that 
suddenly opened directly in his pathway. 

He ran in this as fast as he could. Carlo fol- 
lowed a short distance, and then got stuck. The 


50 


Bumper and Carlo 


Mack hole grew smaller at the other end, and 
Bumper felt that he was safe for the present. 

“ My, what a nari’ow escape ! ” he said, panting 
for breath. “ Now, how am I ever going to get 
out again! Carlo will pounce on me if I stick 
my nose out. I guess the best thing I can do is 
to sleep in here, and in the morning go out when 
Edith calls me. She’ll keep Carlo away.*’ 

And with this remark, he rolled up in a ball, 
and went to sleep. 


STORY VII 


BUMPER MEETS THE SEWER RAT 

Bumper was so young and inexperienced that 
he didn’t know a drain-pipe from an ordinary 
hole in the ground, nor for that matter a tree 
trunk that was hollow inside from a rabbit’s bur- 
row. Bumper was a city-bred rabbit, born in 
the backyard of a tenement house, and how 
could you expect him to know much of the things 
that ordinary wild rabbits learn by heart before 
their whiskers begin to sprout? 

When he opened his eyes the next morning, 
he stretched himself, and blinked hard at the 
circular roof over his head, wondering what sort 
of a house he was in now. It took some time 
for his brain to recall the events of the previous 
night. Then he sat up and smiled. 

“Ho! Ho!” he laughed. “Carlo must have 
had a long, cold wait outside for me. I think 
I’ll take a peek at him.” 

He was really anxious to see if the little girl 
was up yet, and if she had missed him. He had 
51 


52 


Bumper Meets the Sewer Rat 


perfect confidence in her, and knew that she 
would call off the dog the instant she saw him. 

Bumper could see that it was morning, for the 
bright light shining through the big end of the 
drain-pipe proved that. He crawled along cau- 
tiously, making as little noise as possible. If 
Carlo was waiting at the entrance to pounce upon 
him, he wasn’t going to be caught napping. 

Another thing which drew him toward the 
mouth of the pipe was the fragrant odor of good 
things from the garden. In spite of the big 
feast of the night before. Bumper was hungry 
again, and he longed to get back in the garden 
and devour a few more carrots and crisp lettuce 
leaves. 

He was within a few feet of the mouth of the 
drain-pipe, quite confident that Carlo had grown 
tired of watching and left, when a shadow came 
between him and the light. Bumper caught sight 
of a head and forelegs thrust into the opening, 
and then, without stopping for further investi- 
gation, he turned tail and ran back. There was 
a wild scampering and scraping behind him, and 
he knew that Carlo was pursuing him in the hole. 

But Carlo couldn’t follow him very far. The 
pipe narrowed so that there was just room for 
Bumper to squeeze through, and no dog, cer- 
tainly not a big dog like Carlo, could catch him 


Bumper Meets the Sewer Rat 


53 


in there. When he reached the place where he 
had spent the night, he stopped to look around 
him. 

Horror of Horrors ! Carlo or some other ani- 
mal was close behind him, blocking the entire en- 
trance to the hole. Bumper could hear him scrap- 
ing along, and could almost feel his breath. A 
shiver of terror went clear through him. In some 
strange manner the hole had been enlarged over 
night, or Carlo had shrunk in size, or what seemed 
more probable, another dog much smaller had 
taken up the pursuit. 

With a little yip of fear. Bumper scrambled 
onward again, making his way through the drain- 
pipe as fast as his feet would permit, which, after 
ail, was not so very fast, for he slipped and lost 
his footing a dozen times, and once fell all in a 
heap where an elbow in the pipe brought him to 
an abrupt stop. There were two holes opening 
before him, one leading to the right and the other 
to the left. 

Bumper chose the one to the right, and so did 
the animal pursuing him. The race continued 
until the rabbit came to another branch where 
there seemed to be three holes leading off into 
different directions. Bumper chose the middle 
one blindly, and ran through it for dear life. 

It was very dark, and it was impossible for 


54 


Bumper Meets the Sewer Rat 


him to tell where he was going. His one great 
desire was to escape the pursuing dog or other 
animal close behind him. Consequently, he was 
unprepared for the sudden climax of his adven- 
time. 

The narrow tunnel came to an abrupt ending, 
and when Bumper shot out of it he landed in a 
big, circular space that gave him plenty of op- 
portunity to turn around and look at his enemy. 
He had no more idea what kind of a place he was 
in now than before. It was all so strange to him. 

‘‘ Hello 1 ” a voice called to him out of the small 
hole. 

Bumper looked up, and saw a big Sewer Rat 
grinning at him from the mouth of the drain- 
pipe. 

“ I never saw a rabbit run faster in all my 
days,” laughed Mr. Sewer Rat. “ I couldn’t keep 
up with you. What did you think was after 
you?” 

Bumper was very angry and indignant now 
that he realized his flight was all unnecessary. 
He disliked Mr. Sewer Rat and all his tribe, for 
they had often made their way into the old wo- 
man’s backyard to annoy the young bunnies. Be- 
sides his bad manners and uncouth ways, the 
Sewer Rat was disgustingly dirty in his habits. 
How could he be otherwise when he chose to live 


Bumper Meets the Sewer Rat 


55 


in sewers rather than in clean quarters above 
ground? 

“Why were you mnning so fast?” asked 
Bumper, not willing to admit the rat had fright- 
ened him. 

“Just to frighten you,” was the retort. ‘'I 
wanted to give you the scare of your life, and I 
guess I did.” 

“Oh, no,” replied Bumper, assuming an air 
of dignity. “ I wasn’t really frightened so long 
as I knew you were behind me. Carlo couldn’t 
catch me until he nabhed you.” 

“ Carlo! Who’s Carlo! ” demanded the Sewer 
Rat, pretending ignorance. 

“Oh! Ho!” laughed Bumper. “Don’t pre- 
tend that Carlo, the dog, wasn’t after you. 
Didn’t I see him chase you in the hole? And 
how frightened you looked! Why, it nearly 
made me die with laughter.” 

Mr. Sewer Rat puffed up his cheeks and 
gnashed his long, white teeth angrily. Bumper’s 
fling had hit the mark. 

“ If Carlo ever touches me,” he said, “ I’ll bite 
his nose so he’ll remember it. Who’s afraid of 
an old dog like Carlo?” 

“ You are, I should say,” smiled the white 
rabbit. 

The Sewer Rat started to deny this, and then 


56 


Bumper Meets the Sewer Rat 


thought better of it. “Well, I wasn't more 
frightened than you, Mr. White Rabbit. You’re 
as pale as a ghost this very minute.” 

“ That’s a good one,” laughed Bumper. “ Pale 
as a ghost! Why, I’m whiter than snow all the 
time. How could I get paler? ” 

Mr. Sewer Rat gnashed his teeth again, and 
swished his long tail. He was plainly angry and 
discomfitted. So he retorted maliciously: 

“ You’re not white at all. You’re so dirty your 
own mother wouldn’t know you. White! Oh! 
Ho! Ho! I wish you could see yourself,” 
Bumper did see himself, or, at least, a part of 
himself. Both front paws were muddy ; his long 
ears were covered with iron rust; his fat cheeks 
were dusty and cobwebby, and to the ends of 
his whiskers clung specks of dirt. In his progress 
through the drain-pipe he had accumulated suf- 
ficient dirt to change bis color from pure white 
to a rusty gray. 

“ I can soon clean myself,” he remarked, “ and 
the little girl with the red hair will help me. Is 
that the hole that leads back to the garden? ” 

The Sewer Rat suddenly blinked his wicked 
little eyes. “Yes,” he replied, “if you know the 
right turns to take. If you don’t you’ll get lost, 
and never find your way out.” 

“ I think I know my way back,” said Bumper^ 


Bumper Meets the Sewer Rat 


57 


hesitatingly. He hated to ask favors of the 
Sewer Rat, but when the latter volimteered in- 
formation he was grateful for it. 

“You’d find a better way back to the garden 
by following the abandoned sewer you’re stand- 
ing in. Keep straight on to the end. It’s much 
better than crawling back through this small 
drain-pipe.” 

“Thank you!” replied Bumper. “I believe 
I’ll go back that way ! ” 

“ All right, then. I must be going to my fam* 
ily. I haven’t had my breakfast yet. Good 
morning!” 

Bumper thanked him again, and turned to fol- 
low the sewer back to the garden, not realizing 
that the Rat had purposely deceived him out of 
revenge. 


STORY VIII 


BUMPER RUNS INTO A NEST OF BATS 

The way back to the garden seemed a long 
one, and Bumper soon began to entertain doubts 
about the kindness of Mr. Sewer Rat. It was 
an old abandoned sewer, with plenty of room in 
it for a whole colony of rabbits, but it was ter- 
ribly dirty and damp. The musty odor was so 
diflPerent from the pleasant fragrance of the gar- 
den he had recently left. 

“I must have traveled miles and miles,” he 
thought after a while, stopping to clean off some 
of the dirt that clung to his white fur. “ Either 
that Rat didn’t know what he was talking about, 
or he told a whopping fib. They always were 
sneaky animals, the Sewer Rats, and I shouldn’t 
have listened to him.” 

He stopped to consider whether he shouldn’t 
turn around and retrace his steps ; but he was dis- 
turbed by the fear that he could never recognize 
the mouth of the drain-pipe he had come through. 
He had passed a number of these black holes on 
his way, all looking alike. 

58 


Bumper Runs into a Nest of Bats 59 


“ I should have counted them, and then I*d 
know which one was mine,” he reflected. 

But there was no good crying over spilt milk. 
He was in the abandoned sewer, and he had to 
find his way out somehow. Meanwhile, he was 
getting desperately hungry. Oh, for a mouthful 
of the succulent grass that grew in the garden, 
or a cabbage leaf or a piece of celery — anything, 
in fact, that would satisfy that gnawing at the 
stomach ! 

“Ah, well!” he sighed. “I must keep going 
until I find something to eat. There must be 
other gardens, and this sewer must lead some- 
where.” 

In a little while he became so thirsty that a 
drink of water seemed even more desirable than 
a bite of food. He tried to lick some of the mois- 
ture from the sides of the sewer, but that was 
only aggravating. It seemed to increase rather 
than diminish his thirst. 

One hopeful feature of his adventure was that 
the big sewer seemed to grow lighter as he pro- 
ceeded, and he was sure he was coming near the 
end. But before this hope was realized he stum- 
bled upon something that gave him a shock. 

Just ahead of him something long and black 
hung from the roof of the sewer, reaching down 
almost to the bottom. Bumper stopped to gaze 


60 Bumper Runs into a Nest of Bats 


critically at it, his little heart beating with ap- 
prehension. Was this the shadow of some 
strange animal, or was it simply an innocent log 
of wood that had got wedged in the sewer? 

As it didn’t move, and was perfectly noiseless. 
Bumper concluded that it was harmless, and so 
he approached it and after sniffing at it began 
nibbling the lower part. Suddenly there was a 
loud squeak, and the big shadow seemed to part 
in the middle and fly in every direction. It took 
wings so strangely that Bumper was more 
astounded than frightened. 

The sewer was filled with black shadows that 
flitted all around him. Then followed a babel of 
noisy squeaks. Some came so close to his ears 
that he dodged and ducked in fear. One pair 
of sharp beaks caught him on the tip of his nose 
and made him squeal, and another nipped the 
back of his head. He was too surprised and 
frightened by this time to run, and he tried to 
defend himself with his two front paws. 

“It’s the Sewer Rat! Bite him! Tweak his 
nose! Snap his tail! Tear out his eyes!” 

The air was filled with these faint cries before 
Bumper began to realize just what he was up 
against. He had run into a big bunch of bats 
sleeping in the abandoned sewer, and his nibbling 
at them had alarmed and angered them. It was 


Bumper Runs into a Nest of Bats 61 


apparent from their remarks that they mistook 
him for Mr. Sewer Rat, who perhaps had an- 
noyed them many times before, and had even 
threatened to devour some of them. 

‘‘I’m not the Sewer Rat!” cried Bumper. 
“ Please don’t snap out my eyes! I didn’t mean 
to disturb you! Wait! Wait, until I can ex- 
plain!” 

“Who are you? And what are you, then?” 
cried the biggest and fiercest of the bats, coming 
so close that his eyes looked like pin-points of 
light. 

“I’m Bumper, the white rabbit!” 

There was a pause, and the flittering wings 
seemed to stop beating the air. 

“Bumper, the white rabbit! Who ever heard 
of a white rabbit! All rabbits are brown or 
gray.” 

It was the big bat speaking for the others, but 
they all joined him in gnashing their teeth and 
in whipping the air with their soft, almost noise- 
less, wings. 

“ But I assure you I am a white rabbit,” re- 
plied Bumper, “ Come and look at me.” 

This challenge seemed fair, and some of the 
smaller bats approached nearer, but the leader 
warned them back. “Keep away! It’s the 


62 Bumper Runs into a Nest of Bats 


Sewer Rat in disguise. It’s a trick of his to 
catch you.” 

“Is the Sewer Rat white?” interrupted 
Bumper. 

“ No, not unless he’s been whitewashed or been 
sleeping in a barrel of flour.” 

Bumper had to smile at this, for he recalled 
once how a big rat had been caught in a bag of 
flour by the old woman who kept rabbits, and 
his hair was as white as that of the whitest rabbit. 

“I can assure you, Mr. Bat, I haven’t been 
whitewashed, and I haven’t been sleeping in 
flour. Look at my ears. Does Mr. Sewer Rat 
have long ears like mine? ” 

“No, but he could disguise them by using 
pieces of white paper. I wouldn’t trust him a 
minute.” 

In desperation. Bumper then added: “But 
look at my tail! Did a Sewer Rat or any other 
kind of a Rat have a tail like mine? ” 

“Where is it?” asked the big Bat. “I don’t 
see any tail at all. All rabbits have white tails, 
and you haven’t any at all.” 

Bumper wagged the stump of tail that he 
thought would convince the bats, but for a mo- 
ment, he wasn’t exactly sure that he saw it him- 
self. Instead of a white, fluffy stub of a tail 
as soft as cotton, he saw the dirtiest, blackest 


Bumper Runs into a Nest of Bats 63 


wad of hair waving in the air that had ever dis- 
graced a rabbit. The truth flashed upon his 
mind in an instant. What he had supposed to 
be the blindness of the bats was nothing more 
than a most natural circumstance. 

He was so black with the dust and mud of the 
drain-pipe that it was misleading to call himself 
a white rabbit. He was far from it. He was as 
dark as any wild rabbit of the woods — darker, 
in fact, for there was no white fur under his 
stomach or around his stubby tail. 

He was so confused by this discovery that he 
could not find his tongue to make reply. The 
Bats, accepting his silence as proof that his de- 
ception had been found out, suddenly beat their 
wings and set up a terrible uproar. 

“It’s the Sewer Rat in disguise!” shouted the 
big leader of the Bats. “ Now we’ll punish him! 
Drive him out of the sewer! Peck out his eyes! ” 

Bumper stopped just long enough to realize 
that he had no chance in a fight against all those 
whirring wings and little gnashing teeth. If he 
was to escape at all, he had to get a start on the 
bats. Even though flight seemed to confirm the 
suspicions of the Bats, he turned and fled as 
fast as his four legs would carry him. 

There was plenty of room in the sewer, and 
Bumi)er made such tremendous strides that he 


64 Bumper Runs into a Nest of Bats 


outdistanced all but a few of the leaders. They 
tried to land on his back and claw him, but he 
shook them olf, and dodged this way and that, 
until the light ahead suddenly became so strong 
and blinding that the bats gave up the chase. 

When Bumper finally came to the mouth of 
the sewer, he was all out of breath, but the view 
ahead compensated for a lot of his troubles. He 
could see the blue sky; green fields and waving 
trees, and near-by the rippling surface of a lake 
or river. It looked like Paradise after the dark- 
ness of the sewer; but all things that glitter, be 
found out, are not gold, and every earthly Para- 
dise seems to have its serpent lurking somewhere 
around in the grass. 



They tried to land on his back and claw him 



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STORY IX 


BUMPER ESCAPES ON A RAFT 

Bumper took a long time to rest and get back 
some of his breath before he ventured to the 
very mouth of the open sewer. As soon as he 
was sure that the bats had abandoned the chase, 
he threw himself down and closed his eyes from 
sheer weariness and exhaustion. Then, with re- 
turning strength and hope, he raised himself on 
his two hind legs, and looked around him. 

There was water at the mouth of the sewer, 
and he hopped toward it eagerly. After lapping 
enough to satisfy his thirst, he began bathing 
himself. He had never been so dirty before in 
all his life. He was thankful the red-haired girl 
wasn’t there to see him. She would perhaps dis- 
own him. 

This thought soothed his feelings a little, and 
he splashed around in the water imtil most of 
the dust and dirt was washed off. Then finding 
a sunny spot near the entrance, he hopped to it, 
and sprawled himself out to dry. 

Meanwhile, he began examining his surround- 
ings very carefully, and a little anxiously. The 
65 


66 Bumper Escapes on a Raft 

sewer dipped down into the river and disap- 
peared from view, and on either side of it, and 
above it, were very steep walls. No rabbit could 
climb them. The only other possible way out 
of the sewer was by swimming. 

Now Bumper had never learned to swim. Per- 
haps he could do it without learning, but he felt 
afraid. None of his family had been swimmers, 
and the river was certainly deep. From his place 
in the sun he could not see bottom. 

Once more the thought of returning to the 
garden by the way he had come occurred to him; 
but memory of the fierce bats and the Sewer Rat 
immediately banished all ideas of this kind from 
his mind. “I’d never go through that dark 
sewer again for anything,” he said, shuddering. 
“ I must go on until I find another way back to 
the little girl.” 

Bumper’s one desire was to return to Edith. 
He was sorry now that he had ever jumped out 
of his pen. If he had been contented and stayed 
where the red-haired girl had put him, he would 
be eating delicious grass and vegetables now in- 
stead of lying there alone, hungry and afraid to 
go on or go back. 

His himger came back to him, and gave him a 
sharp pain in the stomach. “ I must have some- 
thing to eat,” he said. “ I’m nearly famished.” 


Bumper Escapes on a Raft 


67 


But there was really nothing in sight that he 
could eat — not a spear of grass nor a leaf. Then, 
just as if to prove to him that manna sometimes 
falls from heaven to feed even poor, destitute 
rabbits, a big leaf came floating down on the 
wind and fell almost at his feet. Bumper 
grabbed it, and began chewing it greedily. 

“ Oh, you mean, horrid thing! ” chirped a voice. 

That leaf belonged to me. It was for my nest, 
and the wind blew it out of my bill.” 

Bumper looked up, and saw a small sparrow 
perched on the top of the embankment over his 
head. 

“ I didn’t know it was yours, Mrs. Sparrow,” 
Bumper replied. “ I thought the wind just blew 
it to me.” 

“Well, you know it now. Please give it to 
me.” 

Bumper held the leaf in his mouth, with half 
of it already chewed up. It tasted so good that 
the thought of abandoning it was more than he 
could stand. 

“ If you need it more than I do, Mrs. Spar- 
row,” he said, “I’ll give it to you. But you 
must prove it.” 

“ Why, of course I do. I need it for my nest.” 

“ And I need it to keep me from starving.” 

Mrs. Sparrow cocked her head sideways and 


68 


Bumper Escapes on a Raft 


looked queerly at him. “ You don’t look as if you 
were starving,” she observed. “ You’re as plump 
and sleek as any rabbit I ever saw.” 

“Maybe. But I haven’t had any breakfast, 
and I’m not used to it. This leaf tastes so good 
I wish I had a hundred more of them.” 

“ Then why don’t you go and get them? There 
are plenty in the park and woods.” 

“But how am I going to get them?” asked 
Bumper. “ Don’t you see I’m caught here in the 
mouth of the sewer. I can’t get out without 
swimming.” 

Mrs. Sparrow looked surprised at this infor- 
mation, and flew from her perch on the embank- 
ment to a stone below. She cocked her head 
sideways, and looked all around her. 

“ What puzzles me,” she said finally, “ is how 
you ever got in there without swimming. You 
can’t fly.” 

Bumper smiled, and shook his head. “ No, but 
I wish I could. I wouldn’t stay here arguing 
with you about this leaf but fly away and get a 
good breakfast of a lot of them.” 

“Are you really so hungry, Mr. White Rab- 
bit?” 

“ Indeed, I am nearly famished.” 

And then he told Mrs. Sparrow of his ad- 
ventures in the drain-pipe of the garden and the 


Bumper Escapes on a Raft 




big abandoned sewer. Mrs. Sparrow was evi- 
dently affected by his recital, for she immediately 
flew away and soon returned with another green 
leaf. 

“Now eat that, and I’ll get you another,” she 
said. “I know what it is to go without break- 
fast and dinner. I’ve had to do it many times. 
Now eat your full.” 

Bumper devoured the leaf so quickly that it 
seemed as if he must have swallowed it without 
chewing it. “You see, Mrs. Sparrow,” he re- 
marked, “ you couldn’t feed me enough. I have 
a very big appetite. Why, I could eat leaves 
much faster than you could bring them to me.” 

“ So it seems,” murmured the sparrow in a 
little surprised voice. “I never realized how 
much some animals can eat at once. I don’t 
think I can do more than just take the edge of 
your appetite off.” 

“ That’s very kind of you. And I shall be 
gratefid to you! If you’ll bring me just a few 
more leaves, I will then ask you to direct me 
back to the little girl’s garden.” 

“ I’m sure I’d like to, but there are so many 
gardens around, and they all look alike.” 

“But there’s only one with a red-haired girl 
in it,” replied Bumper. “Can’t you fly away, 
and find her? ” 


70 


Bumper Escapes on a Raft 


‘‘ I’ll try,” said Mrs. Sparrow. 

So after feeding Bumper a few more green 
leaves, she flew away to find the garden. She 
was gone so long that Bumper got very restless 
and discouraged. The few leaves hadn’t satis- 
fied his hunger; they had merely stimulated his 
desire for more. It was past noon when Mrs. 
Sparrow finally reappeared at the entrance to 
the sewer. 

‘‘What news?” asked Bumper, eagerly. 

“Nothing that’s good, Mr. White Rabbit. I 
flew into garden after garden — and all of them 
pretty, and full of fruits and vegetables — but 
there was no red-headed girl in any of them. I 
saw dogs, too — ^many of them — but I couldn’t 
tell whether any of them answered to the name 
of Carlo.” 

“Then it looks to me,” remarked Bumper, 
“ that I’m in for a long swim. Where does this 
river go to? ” 

“Way out into the country through beautiful 
fields and woods,” replied Mrs. Sparrow. 

“ Could I reach them, I wonder! I might 
drown before I could get ashore.” 

“Wait!” exclaimed Mrs. Sparrow. “Wliy 
not escape on a raft? Here comes a big board 
down the river. You could hop on it, and not 


Bumper Escapes on a Raft 


71 


even get wet. Yes, you could do it. It’s float- 
ing close to the shore.” 

“Where is it?” exclaimed Bumper, eagerly. 

“Right here! Now get ready for a long 
jump.” 

Bumper was not only ready, but very anxious, 
and when the floating board appeared a yard or 
more from the mouth of the sewer he crouched 
for a spring. It was a long jump, and Bumper 
had some doubts about making it; but he put 
all his strength in it, and hopped high in the air, 
and landed safely on the raft. 

“Hi! How was that for a jump!” he ex- 
claimed, when he stood upright on the board. 

“Fine!” said Mrs. Sparrow. “I wish you 
a good voyage! Good-bye!” 

Bumper wagged his ears in reply, and shouted 
back a hearty farewell. Then he turned to look 
down the river. He had escaped from the sewer, 
but evidently he had adventures still ahead, for 
the river was broad and long, and very swift in 
places. 


STORY X 


BUMPER SEES HIS FIRST BLACK CROW 

When Bumper floated away from the mouth 
of the sewer on his raft, he felt quite jubilant, and 
a little proud of his achievement. He had es- 
caped the bats successfully, and now he had found 
a way out of the sewer itself. He was so puffed 
up by these exploits that he wasn’t a bit afraid 
of what might happen to him on the river. 

This is really much better than being cooped 
up in the old woman’s backyard,” he reflected. 
“Not even Jimsy or Wheedles ever dreamed of 
such adventures as I’ve had. My! I feel like 
a great traveler already.” 

But when the current of the river began to 
draw his raft away from the shore into the middle, 
his enthusiasm was not quite so great. The 
stream grew rougher, and little white caps ap- 
peared ahead. His raft began to bob up and 
down, and pretty soon a wave washed over it 
and wet Bumper’s feet. 

This made him very uncomfortable, for a rab- 
bit doesn’t like wet feet any more than a cat 
72 


Bumper Sees his first Black Crow 73 


does. He tried to sit up on his hind legs and 
dry his front paws, but other waves washed over 
the raft and wet his haunches. He couldn’t very 
well stand on his front paws, and dry his hind 
ones, so he had to endure the wet and cold. 

The river passed through a beautiful field all 
aglow with flowers and green grass, but the 
shore was too far away for Bumper to swim to 
it. “ I’ll leave well enough alone,” he said, “ and 
stick to my raft.” 

Then he came to a woods through which the 
river flowed. It was swampy here, and twigi: and 
tree trunks seemed to grow out of the water 
long distances from the shore. 

“If I can find a tree fallen in the river. I’ll 
hop on it and escape,” Bumper reasoned. 

He was so absorbed in watching for a chance 
to escape that he hardly noticed a black shadow 
hovering over him. Not until it approached very 
close did he duck his head and look up. 

“Caw! Caw!” 

It was a big, black crow. Now Bumper had 
never seen a crow. In fact, he had never seen 
any of the wild animals of the woods, for it must 
be remembered that he was born in the city. 
Of course, he had seen plenty of sparrows, for 
they live in the cities, and also sewer rats. A 
few bats had also flown over the old woman’s 


74 Bumper Sees his first Black Crow 


backyard on warm nights hunting insects, and 
Bumper was more or less acquainted with them. 

But a crow! He didn’t know what it was. 
So when the loud, raucous cry assailed his ears, 
he squatted down on his raft, expecting every 
minute to be attacked by the black shadow above. 

“Caw! Caw!” screamed the big bird. 

“Mr. Caw! Mr. Caw!” cried Bumper, sup- 
posing that was the bird’s name. “ Good morn- 
ing! How do you do?” 

Now, the crow is very sensitive about his inabil- 
ity to sing. He used to think that cawing was 
singing until the birds all laughed at him. After 
that he kept by himself, and very rarely joined 
the other birds in the woods or fields. 

Bumper’s calling him by that name very natur- 
ally angered him. It was a slight, a slur upon 
his voice, and he resented it at once. It must 
be remembered also that the crow had never 
seen a white rabbit before, and Bumper’s ap- 
pearance floating on the plank had excited the 
bird’s curiosity. White rabbits don’t run wild 
in the woods, and Bumper was almost as much 
a mystery to the crow as the latter was to the 
former. All the rabbits Mr. Crow knew were 
gray or brown, with a white belly and tail, and 
none of them had pink eyes. So it was quite 
natural that the black bird should be curious and 


Bumper Sees his first Black Crow 75 


surprised at the sight of a pure white rabbit, with 
pink eyes, floating down the river on a raft. 

‘‘Caw! Caw!” screamed the crow, flapping 
his wings so that the wind made by them ruffled 
Bumper’s hair. 

“Yes, yes, Mr. Caw. I understand,” replied 
Bumper, getting excited by the nearness of this 
big, black thing. 

“How dare you make fun of me!” cried Mr. 
Crow, striking the tip of Bumper’s ears with 
his wings. “ I’ll teach you to laugh at my voice.” 

With that he struck out with both wings, and 
nearly upset Bumper from his raft. Frightened 
by this exhibition of anger. Bumper’s teeth chat^ 
tered, and his voice shook. 

“I wasn’t making fun of your voice, Mr. 
Caw,” he said. “ I think it’s a very sweet and 
pleasant voice. Please don’t upset my raft.” 

The crow, a little mollified by this flattery, 
circled around the raft, and surveyed the scene 
below with eyes filled with curiosity. 

“What are you, anyway?” he called down at 
last. “You look like Mr. Rabbit, but I never 
saw one so white before. What’s your name? 
And what are you doing on that raft?” 

“ I’m Bumper, the White Rabbit, and — ” 

“Rabbits are never white,” interrupted the 
crow. 


76 Bumper Sees his first Black Crow 


“ But I assure you I am.’" 

“ Then you’re not a rabbit. You’re something 
else.” 

Bumper smiled and tried to look pleased. 
“Would you be something else if you were 
white?” he asked. 

Now this reference to an old fable of the crows 
touched a sensitive spot. There were white 
crows, or at least there were rumors of them, and 
every crow liked to believe the story was true. 
If one white crow, then why not more? Why 
shouldn’t all crows be white? 

“Did you ever see a white crow?” the bird 
asked. 

“Crow! Crow!” stammered Bumper. “Is 
that your name? I’m sorry, Mr. Crow, I made 
a mistake. You see, I’m from the city, and 
crows don’t live there.” 

“No, I should say not — ^unless the white ones 
do.” He came nearer and showed excitement. 
“Answer me. Did you ever see a white crow? 
If all rabbits from the city are white, then maybe 
that’s where the white crows come from.” 

Now Bumper was learning shrewdness, and he 
saw right away through the vanity of the bird 
that had him at his mercy. So, instead of answer- 
ing directly, he pretended that he knew a great 
deal more than he did. 


Bumper Sees his first Black Crow 77 


“Fm surprised, Mr. Crow,” he said, “that 
you’ve never been in the city to see for yourself. 
You really mean to tell me you’ve never been in 
the city?” 

“ Why, no, it’s not a place for crows.” 

“Maybe not for black ones, but white crows 
are perfectly safe there, the same as white rab- 
bits. I never saw one hurt there.” 

“Don’t men shoot them?” 

“No. People don’t shoot birds and animals 
in the city. They’re not allowed to carry guns 
at all. You’re really safer than out here in the 
country.” 

“But there’s nothing to eat in the city — not 
for crows. Is there? ” 

“All the white crows I knew were well fed. 
And the sparrows get plenty. People feed them 
sometimes in the park. Why, there are squirrels 
that have all the nuts they can eat, and they don’t 
have to hunt for them.” 

“White squirrels?” interrupted Mr. Crow, 
eagerly. 

“Did you ever see a white squirrel, Mr. 
Crow? ” asked Bumper, instead of answering this 
question. 

“ No, I never did.” 

“ Then,” sighing, “ I’m afraid there are none.” 

Mr. Crow wasn’t so much interested in white 


78 Bumper Sees his first Black Crow 


squirrels as in white crows, and he dismissed the 
matter from his mind. After a pause, he added : 
“ I believe I’ll take a trip to the city, if there’s no 
danger. I’d like to visit some of the white crows. 
It may be if I stay with them in the city, I’ll turn 
white, too.” 

Bumper didn’t want to deceive him, but he 
was still afraid of him. Instead of answering di- 
rectly, he asked: “Before you go, Mr. Crow, 
can’t you help me to get ashore? I’m very tired 
of this raft. You make so much wind with your 
beautiful wings, I’m sure you could blow me 
inshore with them.” 

“Yes, I suppose I could,” was the reply. 
“Well, since you were kind enough to tell me 
about my relatives in the city. I’ll help you.” 

He began beating his wings violently, and 
the wind from them nearly blew Bumper off the 
raft, but the board floated closer and closer to the 
shore imtil the rabbit with a hop landed on it, and 
bade the crow good-bye. 


STORY XI 


BUMPER MEETS A FOX 

When the White Rabbit hopped ashore from 
his raft, he was so happy that he gave the board 
a kick with his two hind legs, and sent it spinning 
far out into the stream. He supposed that he 
M^as all alone, and no one had seen him land, 
but he was surprised when a voice near him cried 
out: 

‘‘Look out! What are you trying to do?'’ 

There was a flop in the water, and when 
Bumper turned he saw a queer looking fish swim- 
ming toward the shore, using his hind legs in- 
stead of fins to propel him along. He had big, 
staring eyes, and a green head, with white under 
his throat. 

“That’s what I call a mean trick!” the swim- 
mer added, hopping upon a lily-pad, for it was 
Mr. Bull-Frog that Bumper had mistaken for a 
queer fish. “ You upset me from that leaf and 
disturbed my sleep. If I hadn’t been an excel- 
lent swimmer I should have been dead by this 
time.” 

“What did I do? ” asked Bumper, in surprise. 

79 


80 


Eumper Meets a Fox 


“ What did you do? ’’ was the indignant retort. 
“ What but push that board against my lily-pad 
and knock me in the water! I call that doing a 
good deal.” 

Bumper was inclined to laugh at the angiy 
Bull-Frog, who was swelling up to twice his usual 
size and puffing out his cheeks ; but he refrained 
from this when he realized that he had uninten- 
tionally disturbed the frog’s noonday siesta. So 
he answered in a friendly way, hoping to pacify 
his feelings. 

“ I’m sorry, Mr. Frog, but I didn’t see you on 
the lily-pad. The fact is, your head is exactly 
the color of the lily-pad, and no one could dis- 
tinguish it a few feet away. What a lovely green 
it is, too — your head, I mean.” 

Mr. Bull-Frog was apparently as susceptible 
to flattery as Mr. Crow, and his ruffled feelings 
began to subside. ‘‘Yes, I fancy it is a pretty 
green,” he said. “ I’ve always heard that the lily 
was the prettiest of flowers, and that’s why my 
family is attracted by it. Would you like to sun 
yourself on one of these pads? They’re very soft 
and cool.” 

“No, thank you,” laughed Bumper, “I’m 
afraid I’d get my ibec wet. Besides, I’m des- 
perately hungry. If you don’t mind I’ll eat 
some of these delicious leaves and grasses.” 


Bumper Meets a Fox 


81 


^‘Go ahead. I don’t mind. But I can’t see 
what you like about them to eat.” 

“Neither can I see why a frog likes flies and 
insects. Ugh! The thought of eating them 
makes me sick.” 

“ Well,” remarked Mr. Frog, “ I suppose 
every one to his taste. As for me, I prefer flies 
and worms, and — ” 

He stopped suddenly, and looked through the 
low brush into the woods back of the river front. 
Bumper was so busy filling his little stomach 
with green, succulent things that he scarcely no- 
ticed the other’s hesitation. 

“ — and,” continued Mr. Frog, after a pause, 
“ some animals prefer eating rats, lizards, toads, 
and rabbits.” 

“Rabbits!” exclaimed Bumper. “Who eats 
rabbits? ” 

“ Mr, Fox for one,” answered the Frog, “ and 
if my eyes don’t deceive me there’s one in the 
bushes waiting to eat you. If you’ll excuse me. 
I’ll take a dive. I’ve known Mr. Fox to eat 
frogs when he was very hungry.” 

There was a flop in the water, and the bull- 
frog disappeared from sight. Bumper reared 
’jp on his hind legs and looked around him. He 
had never seen a fox, but his mother had often 
told him tales about their cruelty. They were 


82 


Bumper Meets a Fox 


forever hunting little rabbits to eat, and they 
were as sly and cunning as they were barbarous. 

Bumper’s quick eyes caught sight of Mr. Fox 
hiding in the bushes, and, for a moment, his heart 
beat a loud tattoo. What was he to do? Jump 
back in the river and try to swim across to the 
opposite shore, or face the fox and try to escape 
from him by running? 

The woods were very thick all along the river’s 
bank, and there were many good hiding-places; 
but Mr. Fox stood ready to head him off either 
way he ran. Bumper was in a quandary just 
what to do. 

“ Gcod morning, Mr. Fox!” he called, hoping 
to gain time by being polite and friendly. 

Mr. Fox sniffed the air, raising his nose sev- 
eral inches above his head. He seemed quite un- 
certain about something, but his nose apparently 
satisfied him. 

“ Good morning,” he answered finally, grin- 
ning. “ But what a joke you played on me, Mr. 
Rabbit. I couldn’t believe my own eyes. What’s 
happened to you?” 

“ Why, nothing,” stammered Bmnper, mysti- 
fied. “Why do you ask such a question.” 

“Why? Because you’re all white. I thought 
first you were a ghost. And your eyes — they’re 


Bumper Meets a Fox 


83 


pink. Whoever heard of a white rabbit with pink 
eyes?” 

Bumper was quick to see the cause of the fox’s 
surprise. Like the crow, he had never seen a 
white rabbit before, and he suddenly gained con- 
fidence by this knowledge. 

“How do you know I’m not a ghost?” he 
asked, smiling. 

“ How do I know? Ha! Ha! That’s a good 
one ! But I’ll tell you how I know. I smell you. 
No ghost could have that delicious rabbit smell 
that fills my nose every time the wind blows to- 
ward me.” 

Bumper, for the lack of any words to say, 
laughed long and hard at this remark. Then he 
controlled himself, and added : “ I wouldn’t trust 
my nose, Mr. Fox. A rabbit’s ghost might smell 
just as sweet and delicious as a real one.” 

“ I don’t believe it,” grinned Mr. Fox. “ Any- 
way, I’m going to find out. If you’re a ghost, 
why, it will be easy enough for you to disappear.” 

“Yes, of course, but I should hate to disap- 
point you. Now, do you know where rabbits go 
when they die?” 

“Yes, in my stomach.” 

Mr. Fox laughed long and loud at this cruel 
joke, and Bumper winced; but he was playing 
for time to think of a plan to escape. Evidently 


84 


Bumper Meets a Fox 


Mr. Fox was not to be outwitted by flattery, and 
he determined upon another ruse. 

There was a fallen tree near him, but to reach 
it he would have to advance a few feet straight 
toward the fox. The heart of the tree was rotten 
and hollow, and to escape in this was Bumper’s 
design. But how to distract Mr. Fox’s attention 
imtil he could reach it was the question. 

“ Oh, Mr. Fox,” he said suddenly, “ I met Mr. 
Crow on the river, and he asked me about the 
white crows in the city. When I told him, he 
flew away to the city to see if living there would 
turn him white. That’s a joke on Mr. Crow all 
right, isn’t it?” 

“ Yes — but are there white crows in the city?” 

“ There are white rabbits. Then why not white 
crows, and white foxes?” 

“White foxes?” 

“Yes, why not? Didn’t you ever see one?” 

“No, but I’ve heard of them, it seems to me, 
but they live way up north, don’t they?” 

“If you want to see one now,” continued 
Bumper, “look at the sun for ten seconds, and 
sneeze twice, and then — ” 

“What then?” 

“Do as I tell you, and then I’ll tell you the 
rest.” 

Mr. Fox, after all, was a little vain, or at least 


Bumper Meets a Fox 


85 


very curious, and this strange proposition inter- 
ested him. He raised his head, and looked 
straight into the blinding sun. 

“ Now count — one, two, three, four, and 
sneeze,” added Bumper. 

No fox can look hard at the sun long without 
sneezing, and after counting six this one nearly 
sneezed his head off. That was what Bumper 
was waiting for. He made a dive for the hollow 
tree, and got inside of it. When Mr. Fox reached 
the log, and found the hole too small for him, he 
was quite mad, and said: “ I’ll make you pay for 
that trick some day, Mr. Rabbit.” 


STORY XII 


BUMPER ADMIRED BY THE BIRDS 

It isn’t good for us to be too smart. It some- 
times makes us vain, and then one day we overdo 
it. Bumper had some excuse for playing the 
trick on Mr. Crow and Mr. Fox, for his life de- 
pended upon it; but his success was giving him 
a little swelled head. He began to feel that he 
could get out of any danger by using his wits. 

“ It takes a city rabbit to find a way out of dif- 
ficulty,” he reflected, as he lay snugly in the hol- 
low trunk of the tree. “ These country animals 
are dull-witted. I do hope my cousins of the 
woods are not so stupid. Perhaps they are, and 
that’s why people say rabbits are cunning but 
very stupid.” 

This sort of reasoning was the very thing that 
got him in trouble, and nearly caused his death. 
He was so sure that he had outwitted Mr. Fox, 
he decided after a while to leave the hollow trunk, 
and eat some of the green leaves and branches 
growing around outside. 

But he knew less about the cunning and pa- 
tience of the fox than he thought. Instead of 
86 


Bumper Admired by the Birds 


87 


trotting off in the woods, chagrined and disgusted 
by his defeat, the fox was lying low ready to 
pounce on the white rabbit the moment he showed 
himself. He was so still that Bumper couldn’t 
hear the rustle of a leaf or the snap of a twig. 

“ I think I’ll go out now,” Bumper said finally. 
“ I’m dreadfully hungry.” 

Instead of poking his head out cautiously to 
investigate, he walked straight from the hollow 
trunk into the very jaws of the fox. There was 
a sharp click of teeth, and Bumper felt a ter- 
rible pain in one of his long ears. He must have 
leaped five feet in the air, and another five feet 
sideways. The fox had missed his neck by an 
inch, but to make up for this mistake, he now 
pursued the rabbit, leaping nearly as high in the 
air to catch him as Bumper. 

Terrified by the attack, and not knowing what 
to do, the white rabbit jumped this way and that, 
clearing high bushes and landing in dense thickets 
that tore his fur and hurt him terribly. But the 
fox followed him, paying no attention to the 
briers and thorns. 

It was a narrow escape. For a moment 
Bumper thought his time had come. He couldn’t 
get back to the hollow tree trunk, and there was 
no other hiding-place near that the fox couldn’t 
follow him in. 


88 Bumper Admired by the Birds 


It certainly would have gone hard with him, 
and the rest of his adventures could never have 
been told, if a couple of blue jays hadn’t built a 
nest in a tree directly over him. The commotion 
in the bushes startled the birds, and with loud, 
shrill cries they darted down to see what was do- 
ing. The sight of the fox angered them. Foxes 
robbed birds’ nests whenever they got a chance, 
and the blue jays knew this. Therefore, a fox in 
the neighborhood of their home was not to be 
tolerated. 

They flew down like two blue streaks and 
landed their sharp bills on the head and face of 
Mr. Fox. One stroke came so near to one of 
his eyes that he dodged and ducked, and stopped 
pursuing Bumper long enough to snap at the 
birds. 

But the blue jays were prepared for this, and 
they kept well beyond his reach. As soon as he 
turned from them to the rabbit again they flew 
back to the attack. They punished him unmerci- 
fully, pecking at him until he was so angry that 
he could hardly see straight. 

Meanwhile, of course. Bumper was taking ad- 
vantage of this interruption. He was running 
through the underbrush as fast as he could until 
he was far ahead. Right and left he searched 
for a hole or any kind of an opening he could 








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It was such an unusual sight to see a rabbit up a tree 






Bumper Admired by the Birds 


39 


crawl in. And there, just ahead of him, appeared 
what he was looking for! This time it was the 
hoUow branch of a giant tree hanging down, with 
one end still attached to the trunk. 

Bumper was in the hollow branch like a flash. 
Mr. Fox reached it just a moment too late, and 
to vent his anger at losing the rabbit the second 
time he clawed and snapped at the branch as if 
he would rip it asunder. But the limb, with a 
decayed heart, had a stout shell, and the fox soon 
gave it up in disgust. 

Now, the hollow branch, as you know, had one 
end on the ground, and the other still attached 
to the tnmk where the wind had broken it off. 
So Bumper found his hole slanting upward, and 
as he crawled through to the other end he was 
actually climbing a tree. Perhaps you have 
heard that rabbits can’t climb trees, but Bumper 
did in this instance. 

When he reached the upper end, he found him- 
self ten feet from the ground, with Mr. Fox be- 
low and unable to reach him. It was such an 
unusual sight to see a rabbit up a tree that the 
fox was more puzzled than ever. ‘‘ Could white 
rabbits climb trees?” he asked himself. 

Between his discouragement at being twice 
outwitted, and his amazement at finding a white 
rabbit with pink eyes that could climb a tree, Mr. 


90 Bumper Admired by the Birds 


Fox finally dropped his tail between his legs and 
trotted away. Bumper watched him go, and 
sighed with relief. The blue jays were equally 
relieved in mind, and once more returned to their 
home to guard it against invasion. 

When Bumper stuck his head out of the upper 
end of the big tree branch, he noticed that he 
was up among the birds which had been singing 
a lively concert until he interrupted them. There 
were birds which Bumper had never seen be- 
fore, some with startling plumage, and others 
with voices that sounded like flutes. 

They did not renew their singing, but perked 
their heads sideways and watched this strange 
thing popping out of the hollow limb. Finally 
one of them, Mrs. Oriole, clad in a suit of gold, 
streaked with black and gray, spoke. 

“It’s Mr. Rabbit’s ghost, I do believe. Mr. 
Fox must have caught him after all.” 

“If it’s a ghost, I’d like to have some of his 
white fur for my nest,” remarked Rusty the 
Blackbird. “ I think I’ll steal some.” 

“He’s a pretty lively ghost,” warned Piney 
the Purple Finch. “I wouldn’t venture too 
near.” 

Bumper blinked his pink eyes at them, and 
smiled. 

“I’m not a ghost yet,” he said. “I’m quite 


Bumper Admired by the Birds 91 


alive and well, but very himgry. If you don’t 
mind I’ll eat a few of these delicious green 
leaves.” 

The birds watched him in silence. They were 
as curious and puzzled as the Crow had been. 
Finally, Mr. Pine Grosbeak plucked up courage 
to approach nearer. 

‘‘ If you’re really alive,” he said, “ let me pluck 
some of those beautiful white hairs as souvenirs. 
I never saw such lovely fur before.” 

‘‘You can have one hair,” laughed Bumper, 
“ just to prove to you that I’m a real live rabbit. 

Mr. Pine Grosbeak took him at his word, and 
plucked a hair from his back. It made Bumper 
wince. 

“ Surely you’ll give me one, too, for my nest,” 
added Piney the Purple Finch, and without wait- 
ing for consent he plucked two. Rusty the 
Blackbird came swooping down next. “ I need 
some of your beautiful white fur to show my little 
ones,” he said. “ I’ll take three.” 

The other birds expressed their admiration, 
and then begged a few hairs, too. There was 
Mrs. Crested Flycatcher, and Mrs. Phoebe Bird, 
and little Towhee the Chewink. The process 
of extracting a few hairs from his back caused 
Bumper exquisite pain, but he wanted to be 


92 


Bumper Admired by the Bircfe 


obliging, especially as the birds all admired and 
flattered him. 

But when Mr. Woodpecker, who had been 
rapping on the dead trees of the woods, appeared. 
Bumper decided it was time for him to call a 
halt. “That’s all I can spare,” he said, and 
darted back into the hollow branch. 

He was glad to make friends with the birds, 
but he didn’t want to be robbed of all the clothes 
he had* 


STORY XIII 


BUMPER NEEDS A DOCTOR 

It was necessary for Bumper to show a cer- 
tain amount of firmness with his newly-made 
friends, and when he finally emerged from the 
hollow branch again he made a little speech to 
the birds. 

“If you don’t mind, dear friends,” he said, 
“ I must ask you to stop plucking me an / more. 
I really can’t afford to lose my fur. It’s all the 
protection I have from the rain, and when winter 
comes I’ll need it to keep me warm.” 

“But a few hairs to line my nest with won’t 
hurt you,” pleaded Mrs. Phoebe Bird.” 

“No,” replied Bumper firmly, “if I let you 
have some I must do the same to all the others, 
and I don’t want to offend Towhee the Chewink 
or Mr. Crested Flycatcher or any of the others. 
I want to be friends with all of you.” 

The justice of this was recognized by all the 
birds, and they decided not to press the ques- 
tion; but they were voluble with their expressions 
of admiration. 


93 


94 


Bumper Needs a Doctor 


“ I never saw such beautiful pink eyes before,” 
remarked Piney the Purple Finch. 

“ Nor such snow-white fur,” added Mr. Pine 
Grosbeak. 

“I never knew there was such a thing as a 
white rabbit in the world,” said Rusty the Black- 
bird. 

Bumper could not feel other than puffed up 
by such remarks, but he tried to hide it from his 
new friends. 

“Are all the rabbits in the woods brown or 
gray, then?” he asked. “I should like to see 
them. Do they live around here? ” 

“Yes,” replied the Purple Finch, “but they’re 
very much frightened and keep to their burrows 
since Mr. Fox came here to live.” 

“ I should like to find them,” sighed Bumper. 
“ The fact is, I’m lonesome, and a little bit home- 
sick. I’m not used to the woods, and I should 
dearly like to find some of my brown cousins so 
they could teach me things.” 

“ I shouldn’t think you needed much teaching,” 
laughed the Red-Headed Woodpecker, tapping 
the limb with his powerful bill. ‘‘Any rabbit 
that can escape from Mr. Fox and climb a tree 
as you did must know a great deal.” 

The other birds nodded their heads at this re- 


Bumper Needs a Doctor 


95 


mark, and Bumper looked pleased at the compli- 
ment to his shrewdness, 

“ Still,** he said, “ I*d like to meet my country 
cousins.” 

“ If I see any of them,” Rusty the Blackbird 
replied, “1*11 tell them about you. They’ll be 
surprised to know of your coming.” 

The rest agreed to carry the news to the wild 
rabbits when they saw them, and Bumper knew 
that he would soon find his country cousins. He 
felt that he would be welcome, and safer with 
them. There were so many puzzling things about 
the woods that, in spite of his self-confidence, he 
was often embarrassed. 

This conclusion was further impressed upon 
him very forcibly a few hours later. When he 
was certain that the fox had left the vicinity for 
good, he crawled through his tunnel to the 
ground, and began feeding on the wild grasses, 
leaves and strange plants that grew so thickly in 
the woods. 

Most of the plants were new to him. He 
hardly recognized any of them. Some were 
sweet and juicy, and others were so bitter that 
one taste was enough. No one could help him 
in the selection of his food, and he had to trust 
to his instinct. 

But instinct isn’t always a safe guide when 


96 


Bumper Needs a Doctor 


one is not familiar with his surroundings. Now 
just what plant it was that disagreed with him 
Bumper never knew. His little stomach was so 
full of leaves and plants that when he first began 
to feel sick and giddy he thought it was due to 
overeating. 

“ I’U just lie down in the shade now and rest,” 
he said. “Then when I feel better I’ll hop 
around and find a place to spend the night.” 

This was a wise decision, but it wasn’t a cure. 
Something he had eaten clearly disagreed with 
him. Instead of growing better he felt worse 
the longer he rested. In time he was feeling so 
sick and giddy that if Mr. Fox had appeared he 
would have made short work of Bumper. His 
groans soon attracted the birds, and they flew 
to where he was lying and asked him the trouble. 

“I’m dying, I think,” moaned Bumper. “I 
must have eaten some poisonous plant, and I 
know I’m dying.” 

The birds were startled by this information, 
and they held an immediate consultation. 

“It’s perhaps true what he says,” remarked 
Mrs. Phoebe Bird. “He’s eaten some poisonous 
plant.” 

“If we only knew what it was,” added the 
Pine Grosbeak, “we might help him. There’s 
an antidote for every poison.” 


Bumper Needs a Doctor 


97 


**YeSy* assented the Purple Finch, “but not 
knowing the kind of poison, we can’t prescribe 
the antidote.” 

“ Why not,” suggested the Crested Flycatcher, 
“ give him all the antidotes, and then we’re sure 
to give him the right one.” 

Rusty the Blackbird laughed out loud at this 
suggestion. “Why,” he said, “we’d stuff him 
so full of antidotes that he’d die anyhow. No, 
I think we’d better see Mr. Crane.” 

“What could he do? He’s no kind of a doc- 
tor,” indignantly remarked Mrs. Phoebe Bird. 
“The idea of calling him ini ” 

Rusty, who was a jolly, rollicking bird, winked, 
and added: “No, he isn’t much of a doctor, it’s 
true, but he’s got one medicine that nearly al- 
ways works. I’ll go fetch him.” 

During the dispute that followed. Rusty 
slipped away, and before the argument had 
reached a climax, he returned, accompanied by 
Mr. Crane. 

“Now, Dr. Crane,” said Rusty, smiling and 
winking, “ see what you can do with the White 
Rabbit. I told you what ailed him. He’s eaten 
too much of something that disagrees with him.” 

“Then I can cure him,” gravely replied Dr. 
Crane, approaching Bumper’s side. The other 
birds crowded around to see what he would do. 


98 


Bumper Needs a Doctor 


The appearance of Mr. Crane in the role of a 
doctor was a new one to them, and they were 
curious to see how well he would acquit himself. 

“ Let me see your tongue,” Mr. Crane said 
solemnly. 

Bumper stuck out his tongue obediently, for 
he felt so sick that he didn’t care what happened 
to him. 

“That’s good! Now I must look down your 
throat. Open it wide.” 

Bumper readily complied, and Mr. Crane 
looked down it. 

“Now hold it open,” Mr. Crane continued. 
“Don’t close it until I tell you. I won’t hurt 
you.” 

Then to the surprise of Bumper and all the 
birds, he inserted his long, slender bill down the 
throat as if he intended to pull something out of 
it. But he had no such intention. He simply 
twisted the bill around gently. 

Bumper felt a tickling sensation in his throat, 
and he wanted to gag, but the bill prevented him. 
The tickling went on for some time until Bumper, 
in spite of himself, began to gag and retch.- 
Then, as suddenly as Dr. Crane had inserted his 
bill in the throat, be withdrew it. 

But Dr. Crane had accomplished his purpose. 
The tickling in the throat had started Bumper 


Bumper Needs a Doctor 


99 


to vomiting, and all his dinner, including the 
poisonous plant, came up with a rush. It made 
him weak and faint, but the pain in his stomach 
was relieved, and when he was through he looked 
up and said faintly : “ Thank you. Dr. Crane, I 
feel much better.” 

And Rusty the Blackbird, flapping his wings, 
crowed with delight: “ What did I tell you! Dr. 
Crane carries an antidote for every poison in his 
bill! But it’s a bitter medicine sometimes.” 


STORY XIV 


BUMPER MEETS MR. BEAR 

Bumper spent a quiet, restful night after Dr. 
Crane had removed the trouble that was causing 
his sickness; but he was very weak and faint, 
and he slept long after the birds were up and 
singing. He was a little afraid at first to eat 
anything when he finally crawled from his hole 
in the decayed tree branch ; but, recognizing some 
sweet birch trees, he ate moderately of the leaves 
and bark. 

This seemed to put new life in him, and by 
early noon he felt quite himself again. Rusty 
the Blackbird, who had taken quite an interest 
in him, brought him the cheering news that his 
country cousins were living in a burrow a few 
miles back in the thick woods. 

“Take this deer trail back about a mile, and 
you’ll find them,” he said. “ You can’t miss their 
home. It’s under a big rock which you’ll come 
to.” 

Bumper thanked him, and decided to begin his 
journey at once. He was very anxious to find a 
home with the wild rabbits, for his chance of 
100 


Bumper Meets Mr. Bear 


101 


getting back to the garden where the red-headed 
girl lived was very slim. He had no idea how 
far down the river he had floated, nor what di- 
rection to take to find the garden. 

“ Is there any danger of meeting Mr. Fox on 
the trail?” he asked a little anxiously. 

“ No,” replied Rusty, “ for Buster the Bear 
frequents the trail, and Mr. Fox is dreadfully 
afraid of him.” 

“But how about Buster the Bear eating me 
up?” 

“He might,” admitted Rusty, “if he caught 
you, and was very hungry, but you don’t want 
to let him catch you.” 

“ That’s true,” replied Bumper, “ but I might 
not be able to avoid him. Is he as quick as Mr. 
Fox?” 

“Oh, dear, no! You can easily outrun him. 
He’s so clumsy he falls over his own big feet 
sometimes, and he makes such a noise you can 
hear him coming a mile away.” 

“ Then I don’t believe I’m afraid of him,” re- 
plied Bumper, in a voice of relief. 

When he started out on his travels he felt 
pretty good, and on the way he stopped to eat 
every time he found something he knew was good 
for him. He avoided all strange plants, and 
ate only those he recognized. 


102 


Bumper Meets Mi\ Bear 


In a short time he came to such thick woods 
that if it hadn’t been for the deer trail he would 
have been lost, but he followed Rusty’s directions, 
and kept strictly to the well-worn path. When 
he grew tired, he rested by the wayside, always 
hiding in the thick bushes, and keeping one eye 
and both ears open. There were many strange 
and wonderful noises in the woods, and more 
than once Bumper started up with fright. 

But nothing happened to him until he was so 
far in the woods that he thought the big rock 
must be near. He kept a sharp lookout for it. 
Just then he heard a noise so different from any- 
thing that had startled him before that he stopped 
to listen. It seemed as if some one was in great 
pain, and needed help. 

Now Bumper was very tender-hearted, and 
any one in distress made him very sad. So in- 
stead of keeping on the trail, he wandered off 
to find out who was moaning so loudly. 

And what he beheld was enough to make any 
rabbit laugh ! It was Buster the Bear fast asleep, 
snoring as if he enjoyed it. Bumper was fright- 
ened at first by the sight of the big, shaggy head 
and body, but when he recalled Rusty’s words, 
and saw that Buster was sleeping, he stopped 
and laughed. It was a sight to make any one 
laugh. 


Bumper Meets Mr. Bear 


108 


Buster’s big, shaggy body rose and fell with 
every breath, and each time a loud snore came 
from his half open mouth. It sounded like a 
wheezy pair of bellows trying to play a tune. 
Bumper had never heard anything like it in his 
life. 

While he stood off at a safe distance watching, 
a bumblebee lighted on Buster’s nose and tickled 
it. The bear brushed it off with a paw, and 
rolled over to renew his sleep. But, unfortun- 
ately for Buster, he whacked the bee so hard that 
he must have hurt it. 

Anyway, the bumblebee resented it, and gave 
him a sharp sting on the nose. The effect was 
startling. Buster came to life with a jump, and 
let out a loud : 

“B-r-r-r! Whoof!” 

The ground seemed to tremble as he struggled 
to his feet, and swung his huge paws at the bee. 
But the bumblebee, having accomplished its pur- 
pose, calmly flew away. Buster rubbed his 
smarting nose, and growled angrily. 

Suddenly he caught sight of Bumper grinning 
at him. He stopped rubbing his nose to stare 
and blink at the white rabbit. Bumper, now 
that he was discovered, ceased grinning, and 
began to feel afraid. 

“You think it very funny, don’t you?” 


104 


Bumper Meets Mr. Bear 


growled Buster, his little eyes flashing. “ I wish 
he’d stung you instead of me. Drat the old 
bumblebees! I wonder what they’re made for!” 

“ I’m sure I couldn’t tell you,” replied Bumper, 
in an unsteady voice. 

“What do you suppose you’re made for?” 
continued Buster, eyeing him queerly. 

“ Why — to — ^make little boys and girls happy, 
I suppose,” Bumper stammered. 

Buster grinned at this stammering remark. 
Then, with a leer, he added: “No, that isn’t the 
reason. It’s something else. Want me to tell 
you?” 

“ Why, yes, I’d like to know.” 

“Well, then, it’s to give Mr. Fox right back 
of you a good meal.” 

Bumper gave a jump of nearly three feet when 
he heard this. He didn’t suppose the fox was 
anywhere near, and the thought that he was right 
behind, ready to spring upon him, sent the blood 
racing through his body. But when he turned, 
expecting to see dripping jaws about to close 
upon his neck, he was surprised and then puzzled. 
There was no fox in sight. However, he wasn’t 
to be deceived, if Mr. Fox was hiding, and he 
stood ready to spring away, his body quivering 
with fright, and his pink eyes dilated. 

“Ha! Ha! Ha !” laughed Buster the Bear 


Bumper Meets Mr. Bear 


105 


in a deep rumble, rolling over on his fat sides. 
“Ho! Ho! Ho! What a scare I gave you! 
Now we’re quits. The joke’s on you!” 

It took Bumper some time to realize that it 
was only a joke, and not a near tragedy for him. 
Finally he turned a shamed, embarrassed face 
toward Buster, and grinned good-naturedly. 

“ The next time I see any one in trouble,” he 
said, “ I won’t laugh at him, Mr. Bear. You’ve 
taught me a good lesson.” 

“ Well, that’s what I call taking a joke in the 
proper spirit,” smiled Buster. “ I’m sorry I gave 
you such a shock.” 

“ And I’m sorry I laughed when the bee stung 
your nose.” 

“Oh, as for that, I didn’t mind the sting so 
much as the interruption of my sleep.” Buster 
rubbed his nose as he spoke. Then he added, ad- 
dressing the white rabbit : 

“Where are you bound? You must be lost. 
I never saw a white rabbit out of the city before.” 

“ Were you ever in the city? ” asked Bumper, 
eagerly. 

“ Sure ! I was in the Zoo for a whole year until 
I escaped.” 

“ Then you know something how I feel. The 
country’s very strange to me, and I feel a bit 


106 


Bumper Meets Mr. Bear 


lonesome. Could you tell me where my country 
cousins live — the wild rabbits?” 

'‘Yes,” replied Buster, “but I’m not sore 
they’ll welcome your coming. However, you can 
find them by following that trail a little further 
until you come to a big rock. They live under 
it where Mr. Fox can’t get them.” 

“ Thank you,” replied Bumper. “ I think I’ll 
be going, then. I must find them before night.” 


STORY XV 


BUMPER FINDS HIS COUNTRY COUSINS 

After leaving Buster the Bear, Bumper did 
not have far to go before he stumbled upon the 
rock under which the wild rabbits had their bur- 
row. It was a big, towering rock right in the 
middle of the woods, with trees trying to grow on 
top of it, and under it, as if they were determined 
to lift it and roll it away. 

When the white rabbit first saw it his heart 
beat high with expectation. This was to be the 
end of his journey. When he found it impos- 
sible to get back to the garden where the red- 
headed girl lived, he concluded the best he could 
do was to join the wild rabbits and live with 
them. They would teach him the ways of the 
woods, and perhaps, in time he would be happy 
and content as a member of their family. 

In spite of the dangers and ventures that had 
marked his progress, he was greatly pleased with 
the woods, and the freedom he enjoyed appealed 
to him. But to make his happiness complete he 
needed companions and friends of his own kind. 

107 


108 Bumper finds his Country Cousins 


The friendship of the birds was all right, but they 
had their own families to look after, and besides, 
he could not always depend upon having them 
near. 

It was natural that he should be a bit homesick 
and lonely without other rabbits to associate with. 
He often thought of Jimsy and Wheedles, and 
of his mother and of Topsy. Any one of them 
would be welcome. In his newly-acquired knowl- 
edge of the woods and its inhabitants, he felt that 
he could give Jimsy and Wheedles pointers that 
would make their eyes open. 

When he reached the big rock, he hopped all 
around it, looking for the entrance to the rabbit 
burrow, and sniffing the ground expectantly. 
There were many signs that rabbits had recently 
been there, but he could find nothing that looked 
like a burrow. Around and around the big rock 
he hopped, sniffing, pounding with his hind feet, 
and calling to his cousins. But there was no re- 
sponse. 

“ Perhaps they’re all out,” he reflected finally, 
and I’d better rest on the top of the rock until 
they return.” 

He scrambled to the summit of the rock and 
sprawled out full length to watch and wait. 
From his high position, he could see any one ap- 
proaching from any direction. The sun found 


Bumper finds his Country Cousins 109 


its way down through the trees and lit up the top 
of the rock, and, feeling very tired, Bumper fell 
asleep. 

He was aroused from this suddenly by the 
breaking of a twig near-by. He raised his head 
and looked around. Not a dozen feet away from 
him was a wild rabbit, one of his country cousins. 
Now, Bumper had never met a wild rabbit be- 
fore, and this one certainly looked very dirty and 
uncouth compared to himself. The only white 
he had was under his throat and belly. The rest 
of him was a dull gray and brown. 

"‘Hello, Cousin!’’ Bumper called softly. 

The approaching rabbit stopped and looked 
around, his two ears raised straight up in the air. 
Then his quick eyes saw Bumper on the top of 
the rock. Whether he took him for a ghost or 
some strange, dangerous animal, no one could 
say ; but he turned swiftly and disappeared in the 
bushes. 

“Don’t be afraid, Cousin!” Bumper called 
loudly. “I’m Bumper the White Rabbit, and 
I’ve come to visit you! ” 

But this had no effect whatever on the wild 
rabbit. Bumper could hear him scurrying away 
in the bushes. Then all was quiet. For a long 
time Bumper watched and waited. Once he 
caught a glimpse of his cousin on the right of the 


110 Bumper finds his Country Cousins 


rock, then on the left, then behind, and again 
in front. The amazing rapidity with which the 
wild rabbit changed his position surprised 
Bumper. 

It was not until after he had caught sight of 
two heads simultaneously peeping above the 
bushes did he realize that the rabbit was not alone. 
Then he caught sight of a third head, then of a 
fourth, and of a fifth. The whole buiTow of 
rabbits was circled around him, watching him 
either in fear or curiosity. Bumper thought it 
was a good time to make a speech. 

“Cousins,” he began, rearing upon his hind 
legs, “I’ve come a long distance to visit you. 
I’ve always lived in the city, but I got lost, and 
if it hadn’t been for the birds and Buster the Bear 
I would never have found my way here. I hope 
you will welcome me, and let me live with you. 
I’m lonesome and homesick for friends and com- 
panions.” 

He supposed this speech would have a good 
effect, and he waited eagerly for one of the wild 
rabbits to respond. But they were quiet for 
so long that he felt despondent. Then, to his 
surprise, a big rabbit rose near-by, and turned to 
his companions. 

“ Beware ! ” he said. “ It’s a trick of Mr. Fox ! 
We must run for it altogether! ” 


Bumper finds his Country Cousins 111 


Bumper didn’t know just what the speaker 
meant by this last sentence. But he soon found 
out. There was a rush and scramble in the bushes 
all around him, and then a dozen or more rab- 
bits appeared. They came toward the rock like 
an army closing in upon the enemy, leaping over 
bushes or crawling through the underbrush. 

For a moment Bumper was startled. He had 
a vision of being attacked on all sides by his 
country cousins and driven ignominiously from 
the woods. But his anxiety was of short dura- 
tion. The rabbits reached the side of the rock, 
and disappeared as if by magic. 

Then Bumper understood. They had made 
a simultaneous rush for their burrow, knowing 
that this was the safest place for them. When 
the last rabbit had disappeared, Bumper hopped 
down, and began looking for the entrance. 
There was certainly an entrance to the burrow, 
or his cousins couldn’t have disappeared so 
quickly. 

Bumper searched on every side for over an 
hour, but so artfully concealed was the entrance 
to the burrow that he was unsuccessful. There 
was no noise under the rock — nothing to indicate 
that there were rabbits there. 

Discouraged and down-hearted, he was nearly 
ready to give up when he happened to poke his 


112 Bumper finds his Country Cousins 


head in the hollow end of a tree whose roots were 
pinioned down by the huge rock. The small 
heart of the trunk had decayed, offering an en- 
trance just large enough for a rabbit to squeeze 
through. 

Bumper thought this would be a safe place for 
him to spend the night, and he began crawling 
through. The hole followed the trunk of the 
tree downward for some distance. Then sud- 
denly it turned sharply to the right. 

At this point Bumper met an unexpected chal- 
lenge. A big, gray rabbit at the other end of the 
hollow trunk thumped hard with his two hind 
feet, and instantly there was an uproar. Bumper 
had accidentally found his way into the burrow 
through the hollow tree trunk! 

“Stop where you are!” the rabbit guarding 
the hole shouted. “ What do you want in here? ” 

“ I want to greet my cousins. If you don’t 
let^me come in Mr. Fox will catch me after dark. 
I have no other home/’ 

“You’re not a rabbit!” replied the other. 
“We have no white cousins. There’re no white 
rabbits in the world.” 

“ But I’m one,” returned Bumper, amused by 
the same cry that had been made by the crow 
and birds. 

There was silence inside, followed by a buzz 


Bumper finds his Country Cousins 113 


of many voices. Finally a weak, trembling voice 
said authoritatively; 

‘‘ Admit him! It can’t be Mr. Fox in disguise, 
for he could never crawl through that hole. Ad- 
mit him so I can talk to him.” 

Evidently the speaker was one in authority, 
for the other instantly obeyed, and Bumper was 
allowed to hop through the hole into the burrow. 


STORY XVI 


BUMPEB BECOMES THE WHITE KING OF THE 
BABBITS 

What Bumper saw and smelt when he hopped 
into the burrow under the rocks made a great 
impression upon his mind. It was a large bur- 
row directly under the huge rock, with no other 
entrance to it than the one through the hollow 
tree trunk. No wonder the fox couldn’t reach 
the rabbits! They were as well protected from 
him as if they lived in a house of stone. 

There were all sizes of rabbits around him — 
little ones scarcely able to hop around without 
falling over, big, husky fellows with fierce look- 
ing muzzles and eyes, and very old ones who 
seemed too feeble to move very fast. But it was 
the one who had commanded the others to let 
Bumper in that attracted his attention the most. 

He had been a big, stalwart rabbit at one time, 
and his frame was still large and angular, but 
age had shrunken his body and haunches, and 
his cheeks were thin and wrinkled. The eyes 
stared straight at Bumper as though they would 
go right through him. It was not until later 
114 


Bumper Becomes the White King 115 


that Bumper imderstood it was blindness that 
made that stare seem so penetrating. 

Tell me your name again! ” this old patriarch 
said when Bumper stood trembling before him. 

‘‘Bumper the White Rabbit!” 

The old one hopped nearer, using one of his 
companions as a guide. 

“Is it true,” he asked finally, turning to the 
others, “that he’s white?” 

“Yes,” they all responded in chorus. 

“No gray or brown hairs on him?” 

“No gray or brown hairs on him.” 

“ Be sure ! ” commanded the old leader. “ Lick 
them to see if the gray shows underneath.” 

Several obeyed this order, and Bumper felt 
as if he was being washed all over, so vigorously 
did the tongues of his cousins lick him to discover 
any fraud. 

“He still remains white,” one of the rabbits 
said finally. “ There are no gray or brown hairs 
underneath.” 

“That is well!” ejaculated the blind leader. 
“ Now tell me the color of his eyes.” 

“Pink! ” they cried. 

“ Ah! ” The blind rabbit seemed suddenly ex- 
cited and trembled with emotion. “ Pure white, 
you say, and pink eyes ! Is he a young rabbit, or 
very, very old?” 


116 Bumper Becomes the White King 


“ He is young, no older than Piggy.” 

“Then it must be true,” murmured the old 
blind patriarch. “ It must be true.” 

The others were all quiet, and waited for their 
wise, blind leader to speak again. This he did 
after a long pause. 

“Years ago,” he began slowly, “there was a 
white rabbit who was sent to us as a leader. He 
was the wisest and shrewdest and bravest of our 
kind. Where he came from no one knew. We 
made him king, and he ruled wisely and well for 
many years. He died before I was born, and 
that you know was a long time ago. Before he 
died he told us that some day another white rab- 
bit, with pink eyes, would come to us, and his 
coming would be as strange and unknown as his.” 

The speaker stopped and seemed to weigh his 
words. All the rabbits held their breaths, and 
glanced from the blind leader to Bumper. 

“ When he came — this white rabbit, with pink 
eyes — ^we were to receive him and make him our 
king and leader. His wisdom would be greater 
than that of all ours combined, and in time he 
would deliver us from our enemies. You know 
how it is with us in the woods here. We’re the 
meekest and most innocent of the wild animals. 
Even the birds prey upon us at times, and Mr. 
Fox and Buster the Bear hpld us in contempt 


Bumper Becomes the White King 117 

because we cannot defend ourselves. We would 
live on friendly terms with all the wild creatures 
of the woods, but they won’t let us.” 

He sighed, and then continued : “ Our only 
weapon is oiur teeth, but we never use them ex- 
cept to chew our food. Yet they are as sharp 
as those of the Squirrel, and nearly as long as 
those of the Fox. Yet we don’t know how to use 
them in defence, or if we do we’re too timid to at- 
tempt it. We’re cowardly, and easily get fright- 
ened so that our enemies kill us without danger 
to themselves. They all hold us in contempt here 
in the woods.” 

This remarkable speech made many of the 
rabbits drop their.heads in dejection, for the truth 
of it was all too well known to them. 

“ But this new leader and king was to deliver 
us from our fear and timidity,” the blind speaker 
continued. He was to show us how we could 
make friends with all through his wisdom and 
foresight. We have been waiting for him for 
many, many years, and now that he has come we 
should be glad and joyful. Let us do homage to 
Bumper the White Rabbit, for he is our new 
leader and king! I am happy to live to see the 
day come when I could welcome him! My only 
regret is that age has blinded me, and I cannot 


118 Bumper Becomes the White King 


see him with my own eyes. I could die in peace 
then!” 

With that the blind, old rabbit humbled himself 
before Bumper and kissed one of his paws. This 
apparently was the signal for all the others to do 
likewise. They came to him in turn, and prom- 
ised to follow and obey his word, secretly admir- 
ing his white fur and pink eyes. 

To Bumper this sudden change of hostility to 
abject admiration and worship was embarrassing. 
His mind was all in a whirl, and when the others 
knelt before him and kissed his paw he could find 
no words to say. He simply smiled as graciously 
as he could, and accepted the homage in silence. 

Without knowing it this was the correct thing 
to do. It was more impressive than if he had pro- 
tested or tried to explain that there was a mis- 
take. He was almost king-like in his attitude 
without trying to be so. 

It all seemed like a dream to him. He was 
led away to the choicest sleeping part of the bur- 
row, and attendants brought him food and drink. 
There was always some one to wait on him no 
matter what he wanted to do. It was slightly 
embarrassing at first, but, as the novelty of it 
wore off he accepted the situation with a smile. 

“ If they take me for their king, why not act 
the part?” he asked himself. “ I believe I could 


Bumper Become«r the White King 119 


do it. I certainly look more like a king than any 
of the others. And I’m prettier than any of my 
cousins.” 

Bumper was in danger of getting intolerably 
conceited, and for a time he showed it; but his 
better sense came to his rescue finally. 

“If I’m going to be their king and leader,” 
he concluded, “I’ll try to be a wise and good one. 
I’ll not disappoint them. I’ll listen to Mr. Blind 
Rabbit, and when I know all he does I’ll try to 
use the knowledge for the good of all the rabbits 
in the woods.” 

So Bumper the White Rabbit did not regret 
his loss of the red-headed girl and the beautiful 
garden, for in becoming the king of the wild 
rabbits he had a greater career before him, and 
how well he acquitted himself in that position 
we shall see in future stories, in the book entitled 


“Bumper the White Rabbit in the Woods.” 


/ 


19P 


A- I- 


WHITE TAIL’S ADVENTURES 


STORY I 

White Tail Jumps Stepping Stone Brook 

White Tail grew rapidly in size and 
strength, his long, clean limbs showing taut 
muscles and great springing power; and his 
neck grew thick and short, which is well for a 
buck, who must use it in savage thrusts when 
the head is a battering ram. His horns were 
short and bony, but they protruded in front 
like knobs against which it would be unpleas- 
ant to fall. 

But his antlers were his pride. They spread 
out fan-shape on his head, crowning it with 
a glory that made Mother Deer supremely 
happy. At times it seemed as if the antlers 
were too heavy for the head and neck, but 
White Tail carried them easily, and when he 
shook them in sport or anger any one could 
see they were just fitted to him. 

In time he stood as high as Father Buck, 
and a head taller than Mother Deer. The 
day the tip of his antlers reached an inch above 
Father Buck’s, he felt a little thrill of pride. 

The continuation of this interesting story will be found in 
WHITE TAIL THE DEER’S ADVENTURES 
Price 65 Cents Postpaid 

THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY, Publishers 

517 S. Wabash Avc. Winston Building 129 Spadina Ave. 

CHICAGO, ILL. PHILADELPHIA, PA. TORONTO, ONT. 


WASHER THE RACCOON 

STORY ONE 
washer's first adventure 

Washer was the youngest of a family of 
three Raccoons, born in the woods close to 
the shores of Beaver Pond, and not half a mile 
from Rocky Falls where the water, as you 
know, turns into silvery spray that sparkles 
in the sun-shine like diamonds and rubies. 
And, indeed, the animals and birds of the 
North Woods much prefer this glittering 
spray and foam that rise in a steady cloud 
from the bottom of the falls to all the jewels 
and gems ever dug out of the earth! For, 
though each drop sparkles but a moment, and 
then vanishes from sight, there are a million 
others to follow it, and when you bathe in 
them they wash and scour away the dirt, and 
make you clean and fresh in body and soul. 

Washer had his first great adventure at 
Rocky Falls, and it is a wonder that he ever 
lived to tell the tale, for the water which 
flows over the falls is almost as cruel and ter- 
rible as it is sparkling and inviting. But 

The continuation of this interesting story will be found in 
WASHER THE RACCOON 

Price 65 Cents Postpaid 

THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY, Publishers 

517 S. Wabash Ave. Winston Building 129 Spadina Ave. 

CHICAGO, ILL. PHILADELPHIA, PA. TORONTO, ONT. 


WHITE TAIL THE DEER 

STORY I 


White Tail’s First Lesson 

High among the timberland of the North 
Woods White Tail the Deer was born, and if 
you had stumbled upon his home in the thick- 
ets you would have been surprised by a noise 
like the rushing of the wind, and then by a 
very remarkable silence that could almost be 
felt. The first was made by Mother White 
Tail as she deserted her young and took to 
quick flight. 

White Tail, crouching low down in the 
bushes, so still that he scarcely moved a hair, 
would hide his beautiful head in the branches 
and leaves like an obedient child. Left alone 
he knew that his one chance of escape was not 
to move or whimper or cry. 

That was the first lesson White Tail was 
taught by his mother — to keep absolutely 
quiet in the presence of danger. When he 
was so small that he could hardly hold up his 
head, she whispered to him: “Listen, White 
Tail! When I give the signal that the hunters 
are coming, you must flatten yourself down 

The continuation of this interesting story will be found in 
WHITE TAIL THE DEER 
Price 65 Cents Postpaid 

THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY, Publishers 

517 S. Wabash Avc. Winston Building 129 Spadina Ave. 

CHICAGO, ILL. PHILADELPHIA, PA. TORONTO, ONT. 


BUSTER THE BIG BROWN 
BEAR’S ADVENTURES 

STORY I 

Buster Visits His Birthplace 

Buster’s return to the North Woods, after 
his many travels in different parts of the 
country as a trick bear in a circus, was an im- 
portant event to him. He had been away so 
long — ever since he was a little cub — that 
nothing seemed familiar to him. His recol- 
lection of the river that flowed in front of 
the cave where he had been born was very 
dim and uncertain, and he was not sure which 
way to go when he had crossed it 

Browny the Woodchuck had informed him 
that he was in the North Woods when he 
waded up on shore, but Browny had an im- 
portant engagement with his family, and im- 
mediately left him. Happy and excited that 
he was now free in the woods, and no longer 
in danger of being pursued and captured, 
Buster for a time was satisfied in roaming 
around in the bushes, eating the wild fruit 
and berries. 

The continuation of this interesting story will be found in 
BUSTER THE BIG BROWN BEAR’S ADVENTURES 
Price 65 Cents Postpaid 

THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY, Publishers 

517S. Wabash Ave. Winston Building 129 Spadina Ave. 

CHICAGO, ILL. PHILADELPHIA, BA. . ^TORONTO, ONT. 


BOBBY GRAY SQUIRREL’S 
ADVENTURES 

STORY I 

An Adventure With Dasher the Hawk 

When Bobby Gray Squirrel left the de- 
serted house where he had spent the winter 
with Stripe the Chipmunk and Web the Fly- 
ing Squirrel, not to mention White Foot the 
Deer Mouse, he was in a very serious mood, 
and his first thought was to go right to work 
to build a home for himself in some friendly 
tree, and stock it early with nuts for winter 
use. 

His experience that winter, before he had 
found his fortune in the bag of nuts in the 
tower room, had made him very thoughtful. 
^T’m not going to put off work again that 
should be done today,” he said to himself as 
he frisked along from tree to tree. “I can’t 
expect to have such good luck another winter. 
But my!” — smiling in recollection — “those 
nuts were delicious 1” 

He smacked his lips at the thought, and 
right on top of it came the low trill of a bird. 
It was Goldy the Oriole, who had just re-* 
turned north. 

The continuation of this interesting story will be found in 
BOBBY GRAY SQUIRREL’S ADVENTURES 
Price 65 Cents Postpaid 

THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY, Publishers 

C17S. Wabash Ave. Winston Building 129 Spadina Ave. 

CHICAGO, ILL. PHILADELPHIA, PA. TORONTO, ONT. 


BUSTER THE BIG BROWN 
BEAR 

STORY I 

When Buster Was a Cub 

In the North Woods where Buster was 
born, a wide river tinkles merrily over stones 
that are so white you’d mistake them for snow- 
balls, if you were not careful, and begin pelt- 
ing each other with them. The birches hang- 
ing over the water look like white sticks of 
peppermint candy, except in the spring of the 
year when they blossom out in green leaves, 
and then they make you think of fairyland 
where everything is painted the colors of the 
rainbow. 

The rocks that slope up from the bank of 
the river are dented and broken as if some 
giant in the past had smashed them with his 
hammer, cracking some and punching deep 
holes in others. It was in one of these holes, 
or caves, that Buster was born. 

He didn’t mind the hard rocky floor of his 
bed a bit, nor did he mind the darkness, nor 
the cold winds that swept through the open 
doorway. He was so well protected by his 

The continuation of this interesting story will be found in 
BUSTER THE BIG BROWN BEAR 
Price 65 Cents Postpaid 

THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY, Publishers 

517S. Wabash Avc. Winston Building 129 Spadina Ave. 

CHICAGO, ILL. PHILADELPHIA, PA TORONTO, ONT. 


BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT 
AND HIS FRIENDS 

STORY I 

Bumper and Sleepy the Opossum 

Bumper, after working hard to trick his 
enemies so they would be more afraid of the 
rabbits in the woods, had decided the ways of 
peace were better than those of war. Not that 
he was going to permit Sneaky the Wolf or 
Loup the Lynx to pounce upon his people and 
cat them up without fighting, but instead of 
going around with a chip on his shoulder, ex- 
pecting and looking for trouble, he intended 
to make friends of all the animals and birds, 
and be helpful to them. 

It is wonderful how much good to others we 
can overlook if we go about with our eyes 
shut There is plenty to do if we look for it 
So Bumper found in a short time that he had 
missed a good deal in always looking for the 
worst in others instead of for the best 

Only a few days after his change of plans, 
which was told of in a former book. Bumper 
stumbled upon Sleepy the Opossum in a tree, 
with his eyes closed in slumber. At first he 

The continuation of this interesting story will be found in 
BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT AND HIS FRIENDS 

Price 65 Cents Postpaid 

THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY, Publishers 

<17 S. Wabash Avc. Winston Building 1 29 Spadina Ave. 

CHICAGO, ILL. PHILADELPHIA J>A. TORONTO, ONT. 


BOBBY GRAY SQUIRREL 


Bobby's Introduction 

There are many squirrels living in the 
North Woods, but only one real Bobby 
Gray Squirrel, and if you saw him once you 
would never mistake him for any other. Bobby 
was a gay, rollicking happy-go-lucky fellow, 
who believed in enjoying himself today and 
letting the morrow take care of itself. He 
wasn’t exactly lazy, but he didn’t believe in 
doing work that wasn’t actually necessary, 
and sometimes, I’m afraid, he forgot to do 
what was really necessary. 

Bobby had many friends in the woods, and 
they all liked him and smiled at him, but 
there were some who thought his careless 
ways might get him in trouble some day. So 
instead of chattering pleasantly with him, they, 
shook their heads and preached to him. 

‘‘Why don’t you get busy these pleasant 
days, Bobby, and store up food for the 
winter?” Gray Back the Weasel asked re- 
provingly one bright, sunny day. 

The continuation of this interesting story will be found in 
BOBBY GRAY SQUIRREL 

Price 65 Cents Postpaid 

THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY, Publishers 

517 S. Wabash Ave. Winston Building 129 Spadina Avc. 

CHICAGO, ILL. PHILADELPHIA, PA. TORONTO, ONT. 


Bumper the White Rabbit 
In the Woods 


STORY I 

BUMPEE HUNTS WITH THE PACK. 

Bumpee the White Rabbit, when he escaped 
from Edith, the red-headed girl who owned the 
garden where he lived, found his way into the 
woods, and, after many adventures with the Bats, 
the Crow, the Fox and Buster the Bear, he was 
adopted by the wild rabbits as then leader and 
king. The Old Blind Rabbit welcomed him, and 
told the story of how it was prophesied that some 
day a pure white rabbit, with pink eyes, would 
come to deliver them from their enemies, and 
teach them how to live in the woods without fear 
of danger. 

No one had been more surprised than Bumper 
at this sudden welcome. At first he was for tell- 
ing them he was no leader, and not fit to be their 
king; but, as he was very lonely and without a 

The continuation of this interesting story will be found in 
BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT IN THE WOODS 
Price 65 Cents Postpaid 

THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY, Publishers 

ri7 S. Wabash Ave. Winston Building 129 Spadina Ave. 

CHICAGO, ILL. PHILADELPHIA,PA. TORONTO, ONT. 


BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT 
AND HIS FOES 

STORY I 

Bumper Plans to Fight His Enemies 

Now in the reign of King Bumper and 
Queen Fuzzy Wuzz many things happened 
in the woods that made exciting times for the 
wild rabbits and their friends. They came to 
pass in the first year of their reign, for Bumper 
the white rabbit was not content to be idle 
when his people were surrounded by so many 
enemies that their lives were never safe. 

Some kings just eat and drink and make 
merry the live long day, and forget all about 
duty; but lots of such kings have lost their 
thrones, and others who have ruled wisely 
have been blessed with many friends, and 
when they died all the people mourned their 
loss. 

Bumper the white rabbit intended to be a 
good and wise ruler, and therefore he spent 
much time in trying to think of ways to help 
his wild cousins of the woods. The story of 
how he escaped from the garden owned by the 

The continuation of this interesting story will be found in 
BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT AND HIS FOES 

Price 65 Gents Postpaid 

THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY, Publishers 

517S. Wabash Avc. Winston Building 129 Spadina Are. 

CHICAGO, ILL. PHILADELPHIA, PA. TORONTO, ONT. 




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